kateindenver
Posts: 35
Joined: 8/4/2004
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Sweet Pussy Kate and The Pan The tail was nearly second nature to her now; it brushed with a soft sensuality against her skin as she moved about the house. She felt deliciously naked, covered as she was by only the tail, hanging from the plug deep in her anus to her knees in luxurious waves. She had noted earlier as she passed the full-length mirror in the hall how it so nicely rose up from her cleft at first, like the graceful arc of a prancing show horse’s tail would, then downward quickly to brush her thighs and the backs of her legs. She was standing, and it still performed the arc, but she knew it would be much more pronounced when she took to her cat persona later if Master pleased. It would fly up and over her buttocks in a wave, arching over her back as she silently waited by his chair on all fours or slept peacefully by his chair, the soft waves tucked between her legs or held lightly over her thighs. She loved being the cat. It afforded her the opportunity to be his pet. No need to do anything other than move from place to place, occasionally coming to lick his hand or rub against his leg, (permitted in cat persona protocol), receive absentminded scratches behind the ears and of course, occasional trips to the little milk dish placed in the kitchen for her. No need to be or do, just the delightful presence at Master’s feet, his sweet pussy kate. She loved it. She even had come to love the huge fullness of the plug as it moved within her. Every effort of her bottom to expel the foreign presence only served to pull it up and inward away from the huge retaining knob, her powerful anal muscle moving down the smoothly lubricated and tapered surface, bringing the tail in tight to her ass. She had come to look forward to these natural and almost unconscious physical adjustments as the plug slid in and out; it moved only an inch or so, but it felt oh so much like his cock within her passage. (A fact she did not intend to share with Master anytime soon). Some things were better left unsaid. She had never admitted to Master that the tail almost gave her the nice feeling of him being within her as she moved about the house. It was a small pleasure she afforded herself, and she took some little delight in knowing that Master seemed to think it was a disciplinary thing rather than a nice feeling. Small stolen climaxes that she considered not her fault but rather were a result of the inward and outward motion of the plug could not be her fault, and therefore, (she reasoned) there was no need to mention such climaxes to Master. After all, they were just passing pulses of the clitoris, coming and going so quickly they could hardly be worthy of reporting, could they? But suddenly her thoughts turned to another matter… Feeling a strong urge, she stepped into the hall and seeing that Master was still busy in the study so that she would not by mistake bump into him before being called to him, she strode to the bathroom. She had been making frequent trips and it was beginning to be a bore, but Master had his ways, and she knew better than to ask too many questions. She knew only that he had instructed her to drink lots of water throughout the day. If she had any inkling of what was to happen, she did not admit it to herself. As the day had passed, for some reason she had begun thinking about the pan he had made her buy several months earlier, and had never explained why he had done so. He had only told her to hand-wash the pan daily and store it carefully in a special place. It had seemed easier to her to do it in the washer, but Master patiently explained to her that he wanted it done by hand, and the fact was that the careful ritual would cleanse the pan adequately. Several times over the months she had ventured to ask about the pan, but always all he would say was, “It’s special.” It was times like that, being treated with condescension, that in that awful former life as a frumpy housewife, full of bitterness and arguments, she had many times become enraged at being treated like a little girl, (or so she thought) by her husband ken. Of course she had taken revenge by refusing sex for many days, behavior that was now unthinkable. Ken, alpha to her now, need only instruct her to come to bed and it was so, immediately and without delay. Master would not like the old behavior at all, and it could not happen under Master. Bad behavior, refusing ken, would be the same thing as refusing Master. Punishment would be swift and sure. She was coming to hate, really hate any form of disobedience in her behavior. But now – now, she felt a delicious yearning in her stomach and thighs to drop to her knees and suck Master’s wonderful cock in without waiting for permission. She loved the humiliation of being summarily treated, and she knew in her heart, washing the damnable pan, that further humiliation was in store for her, and she would pass through yet another giving up of her most intimate, private person into his hand, and he would take it as his right. After all, he was her Master. Thoughts of humiliation never failed to make her run with sexual need, and this time was not unlike the others. She became aware of a clear liquid running onto her thigh, and wiped it away, shuddering with anticipation. Returning to the kitchen, she went to the cupboard and removed the pan from its place. Turning it in her hands, she tested the bottom with a flick of her fingernail. She poured another glass of water and stood looking out at the garden as she downed it quickly. The pan was much on her mind. Sometimes she had almost forgotten the mystery of the pan and dismissed its purpose from her thoughts, as she had known Master to do things or have her do things that had never meant much sense to her until much later. Of course there was always the wonderful fact that much later the revelation was a pleasure and increased her submissive qualities under him. Witness the first time he finally possessed her other passage…how hard to work up to that, the terrible embarrassment and humiliation of following his instructions for a ritual washing, three times, first the evacuation, followed by another inner washing with warm soapy water, and the final purification with warm, clear water, to make herself ready for deflowering. Taking the kneeling-forward position facing away from him, bottom fully exposed, opening her legs wide, nipples against the floor, being instructed to spread herself wide-open to his view with her hands was humiliating in the extreme. She had cried. She had whimpered, “Master, you give me no privacy at all”. He had only laughed at her, making her burn with shame as he entered her, his hand coming down hard on her naked, exposed buttocks as he rode her. His ejaculation was extreme within her; it seemed like there was no place his sperm did not invade and possess. But she had performed obediently without question, and it was oh so nice to be fucked in a new way. Master’s cock, gently at first, then more forcefully had opened her to a new experience under his collar, and she had moved deeper into her submissive life it seemed, giving up another secret, another personal privacy, another thing no longer held back from Master’s pleasure in her. She tried to recall, had ken ever so possessed her before Master’s use of her? It didn’t matter, as ken would have no problem taking her nether passage now if he wanted, and anyway, it was now Master’s responsibility to offer ken that pleasure or not. Master usually reserved it for himself, as he did not wish to instruct her to perform the ritual cleansing too often. She smiled, remembering Master’s careful attention to her health. [font="times new
roman"] She felt a new uplift of feeling for the man she called Master. Ken, as much as she loved him, had never been able to master her so forcefully. She felt utterly powerless under Master. And he took full advantage of her total yielding…she was his slave and she well knew it. She remembered how she had struggled with the idea of consuming sperm…certainly it wasn’t even a possibility with ken when she merely existed (not lived) as his frumpy wife. But she would not dream of wasting a single drop of Master’s sperm, an almost unforgivable insult to him. “Well, I guess sometimes I can’t figure Master out and I just have to wait and see” She smiled with a secret look of bemusement. If ken had been there, he would have asked her what she was thinking, but she would never tell. This was Master’s way, and she would simply obey, as ken himself had done many times during his own training. She felt sure that there were some things in ken’s service under Master that she was not privy to, and that was just as well too. The pan spun, turning and sparkling in her hands under the hot water as she washed it in the ritualistic way Master had instructed her. Never to be washed with other kitchen items. Always in the sink, with the hottest water, washed, soaped, rinsed and repeated with slow, meditative attitude three times, and finally placed to dry on a clean towel, the towel which had also been specially purchased, on the same day, along with a new pair of panties, and which had been kept with the pan and panties as a set all these months, and always, always, reverently and carefully placed separately by themselves, the towel folded in a square beneath the pan, which was placed upright on the towel, the panties, scented and carefully folded and neatly placed at the bottom of the pan. The water splashed against the bottom of the pan at the last rinse, and she stood looking down at the pure, clear stream, and listened to the perfect C note issuing from the striking of the water against the metal. “And that’s the other thing” She mused, a slight frown on her face, “What was that all about, having to go find a piano and find out what a perfect middle C sounds like, and then looking through all those damned pans, rapping my fingernail on the underside to find a pan that perfectly matches the middle C? I swear, some of those store clerks must have thought I was crazy, rapping on those pans…damn.” She emptied the pan and her fingernail idly rapped the bottom of the pan as she mused, as if she needed to check one last time whether it had the correct pitch.[font="times new
roman"] Another flick of the finger – “Oh, and no handles…doesn’t the man know a pan needs handles? How many stores does he think I had to go to, to find a pan with no handles that sings middle C?” Done, she placed the set into the cabinet and closed the cabinet door and went about her business without further thought on the subject. Time was moving swiftly now, and the day was wearing on. She was almost there.She bent to remove the last dish from the washer, placed it lovingly on the counter with the stack to be placed in the cupboard and then she moved on quickly to finish up her household assignments for the week. The living room was the last chore, and she felt wonderfully exhausted from the day of ceaseless movement, and proud of the fact that she still retained the medallion penny under her tongue…it had been placed there by her Master’s hand that very morning, after she had arrived and stripped, kneeling at Master’s feet for assignments and directions as was his method. There had been, of course, a few moments to carefully bath his man-hood with her lips and tongue…she might have been allowed to take his sperm then and there, he seemed favorable to the idea, but she had made the mistake of chattering on about something instead of paying attention to the servicing, looking up at him smiling like a child, idly stroking his flesh in one hand, cupping his sac in the other, unmindful of the change in his eyes while he was made to wait for her mouth again. That had done it. The tail and medallion had quickly followed, and the day had been spent not in ceaseless pleasure in Master’s bed, but in work. He had been busy in the study with his things, and she had moved in stealth, careful not to slam doors or make unnecessary noises until he would call her to him. There would, of course, be a little chat at the end, for good measure to make sure the day’s lesson was learned. “Damn” She whispered under her breath, still careful to be silent at all costs, as she knew from experience that when Master wanted her to be silent he seemed to be able to hear through the walls, and any vocal effects were always dealt with, even if inadvertent. “When will you ever learn, kate?” She had been through this countless times it seemed, but always there would be a word spoken out of turn, or a pronouncement given but not invited, the little things that kept her in her own mind from being the submissive he desired her to be…now, of course, there was the added fact that her husband had been made Alpha, and infractions at home…whether in bed or the living room were supposed to be reported to Master. This left her with little or no privacy from male control, but there it was. She supposed that over all though, her submission to ken without delay when he chose, as opposed to her being allowed to refuse if she so desired, was better for her and for ken, and so she felt no problem with the new system, but rather liked it.She was, in fact, a natural slave. She loved the wise things Master did in their lives since they had become his submissives. Master seemed to have a sense about these things, and she had noted a betterment of ken’s moods, as he had become her superior again. She remembered times (long ago now, it seemed) when she had refused ken, argued with him, been dull in bed. “Did I really insist on the missionary position? Did I really dislike sucking him? Did I really wear those awful clothes, was I truly the dull frumpy housewife I seem to remember being?” She shuddered slightly as she remembered the times she had clamped her legs shut when he needed her. “Unbearable…just awful to remember those times” She whispered. Saliva flooded the floor of her mouth - that was one drawback of the silence penny - and she quickly swallowed, loving the pretense that it might well be Master’s seed disappearing so sweetly down her throat had she behaved decently earlier. The thoughts of her bad past had changed to sexual need rapidly rising in her pussy as she had become aware again of her absolute nakedness, as servant in her Master’s house, nipples and clit framed with rings, tail swaying. “Damn, what a difference, and for the better!” She laughed silently. Movement in the hall brought her from her thoughts and she quickly turned away from the movement, bending to fuss with some lace on the edge of the couch, as if not knowing he was behind her. She always tried to do this to allow him to decide whether he wanted to come to her or call her to him…she had been taught never to initiate conversation, especially if under some sort of discipline. The movement seemed to fade, but then he was behind her, his hand turning her, the other bringing her face up to his. He took her mouth deeply, without preamble, taking his own pleasure there before pulling away from her and with one smooth motion, sitting on the couch and pulling her across his lap. His hand was always hard when he did this, and she was not mistaken in believing this would be a final exclamation point on the discipline of the day, wincing and biting her lip as his hand began to punctuate his words, words spoken softly but with firmness in contrast to the stinging application of his big hand on her naked skin. She noted with finality that the tail was indeed no help at all in protecting her from the spanking she was enduring. Finally, her bottom stinging, she felt his anger abate and he held her for some time, quietly across his lap, stroking her back. Gently then, he pushed her away. She slid from his lap and crept silently, tears in her eyes, to his knees and looked up at him pleadingly. He removed the penny from her mouth at last, and she swallowed hard. “Master, I am so sorry, can you forgive my bad behavior, please” She did not touch him, or make any outward motion toward him, as she knew to avoid at all costs topping from the bottom, behavior worse than the original error earlier in the day. He seemed to be idly reading a magazine that had caught his eye, and she knew that he was letting her wait. She slowly settled down at his feet, and cast her eyes down, not whimpering, which he disliked in his submissives, but in silent reverence for his authority over her. In time, his hand came down to pat her head and stroke her shoulder, and after what seemed a long time, he leaned close to her ear. “You washed the pan? You have the towel and panties?” “Yes, Sir.” “Get them.” She did not answer, but rose from her haunches immediately and went to the kitchen, and retrieved the pan, towel, and panties. Bringing the items he had requested back to the study, she sat on her haunches and placed them in front of her, at his feet. “Back a bit, cat, more…more…there.” She did not need to be told what to do next. She opened the towel, spread it beneath the pan, and removed the panties. A look from him told her to kneel there until further directions were given, but she knew that he was simply waiting for her. He went back to his magazine, ignoring her for the moment. She fiddled with the towel, adjusting, amazed at her embarrassment, knowing what was coming. He looked up briefly. “You were obedient about the water?” “Yes, Sir.” She never failed to be impressed by his wisdom. Had she failed in taking the water she would not be ready, and that would be bad. Again, she realized that unquestioned obedience was the only way. [font="times
new roman"]He ignored her again, caught up it seemed in an interesting article. The clock ticked on the mantle, and the sun crossed over the limit of the room, agonizingly slowly, ending finally in a tiny sliver of yellow against the far wall that faded into nothingness. The room became bathed only in the soft yellow of Master’s chair-side lamp, casting shadows on the wall the sun had vacated earlier. The time passed. Master seemed to have forgotten her. She dozed slightly, her mind wandering to fragmented bits of memory and fantasy. She was a woman who naturally hated silence, but silence had been her constant companion since he had collared her. Silence would become her friend, he had told her, but sometimes the urge to speak became overwhelming. She needed the penny, desperately. The moment finally came. She felt a rising excitement, in spite of her humiliation, spreading across her thighs and belly…she knew her vulva was engorged and running freely, now, and her breasts were red with shame. She knew she must not touch her clitoris as it would cause an explosive climax, and that would not do. She tried not to squeeze against the plug, letting it slip down until the knob was just inside her anus. She knew she could not tighten her vagina, all too dangerous an act. She was a bomb, ready to explode. She looked at her Master, and knew maybe for the first time how much she loved and needed him, how she adored him. He was safety, comfort, love, cherishing, all of the things she ever wanted or needed as a woman. He was here, now, and she was on the cusp of offering up her privacy to him, and she could not stop. She came to a place where she began to need to please him in a new way, in spite of her embarrassment, in spite of the humiliation of being in such a position in front of him. She had done things for him she had not dreamed of doing with or for any other man, and now this new thing was upon her, and her nipples were stiff with desire for him, and her clitoris was on fire, and her need became a river, flowing with a powerful, unstoppable tide of new desire. She now wished for the moment, the actuality of the act of pleasing him. No longer was this something that was foreign to her mind; it seemed the most natural thing in the world, and she knew it was to become another milestone in her absolute, total surrender to Master. It seemed an eternity before the physical need rose up within her, slightly at first, then with more urgency. She looked pleadingly at him when the need became discomforting. He waited until her eyes were desperate pools of pleading, and still he waited more, until finally, he leaned forward. “Now.” She knew instinctively to move up and forward, her thighs open above the pan. The need was almost painfully intense, and the earlier deep sense of shame and humiliation gave way before the pure physical need to release the pressure. Her heart beat faster, but the ever-present need did not forgive, and she reached the place of no return. She knew what every woman knows…once she starts, she cannot stop, and so shame mounted into a positive peak against her inner rebellion. He watched her, calmly now. His force overpowered her. She gave in. She sobbed. She released her control to him. The sound was a perfect middle C, clear and high, with a purity that surprised her, as her stream started, slowly at first, musical notes in quick succession, timed in ever-closer beats against the bottom of the pan, then with more force, until she had to reach down and open herself, risking further humiliation, and the stream became a river, sounding against the pan, maintained for what seemed like minutes. She had never been so humiliated, so not in control of herself. The river issuing from her in his sight felt as if her very soul and spirit were pouring out of her…it was as if every hidden secret, every hidden sin, thought, anger, sadness, happiness, every emotion she had ever experienced were emptying from her in a flood that left her wondering how she had never before known such an emptying, such happiness, such pure joy. She clamped down hard on the tail plug, and the movement triggered her vulva into spasms, and she exploded into completion, but her eyes stayed on his; this was his climax, this was her loving offering to him. This was the signal to him that he had beaten her. She remembered long ago, thinking to be only his submissive, but she knew, and he knew, she was his slave. The first climax was full and wide, covering her thighs, belly, and breasts, rising to her face in a crimson flush that left her breathless. She moved her pelvis outward, toward him, spreading her vulva wide to his view, pleading with her eyes that he accept her offering of total submission, the surrendering of her inmost privacy. She wanted to cry out, beg for his praise. “I know, cat. I know.” His smile, his eyes, told it all. The flood diminished, and became a trickle…one last drop fell away into the water as she looked down and saw why he had instructed her to drink throughout the day. Her flood was crystal clear, as if from a tap. It was almost pure water. As in a mirror, her pussy shown back at her wondering eyes, flushed with a crimson that extended over her whole vulva. Her clitoris sat panting, pulsing, the gold ring shimmering in the rippling water beneath her. His smile was her reward. She waited, holding herself open to his eyes, the pan shimmering beneath her, until he motioned with his hand, and she took up the panties to touch herself to dry, and instantly a second powerful climax overcame her, and she bucked forward over the pan, unable to stem the tide of her orgasm. He watched, bemused. He would allow her one climax for herself, after all.[font="times new
roman"] “Here” She crawled forward, the slinking cat, the pet…she knew that she was nothing more, his pet for his pleasure. And she reveled in the feeling of her shame…the tail swishing against her legs as she moved. She knew that if he so wished, she would gladly be his cat in the midst of strangers. Did cats wear leashes? She laughed inwardly. It did not matter. Maybe she would be one cat who would walk by his side, tail held proudly, on a pretty leash. She simply did not care. All that mattered was pleasing him. She reached his feet, leaning down to plant a kiss on each foot, licking, her tongue washing his flesh. She advanced between his knees. The transformation was complete. She had no words, purring and eagerly rubbing against his hand. To her own amazement, silence suited her. She had no wish to speak. She needed no silence penny. He reached forward and down, touching her clitoral ring with the lightest touch of his middle finger, and then upward with three fingers, quickly and powerfully entering her to his palm. He smiled, pleased with her as she endured the third powerful climax against his fingers. This climax would be shared. Was he not a kind and giving Master, as well? “Yes” He said, looking down at her with pleasure and fond love. He opened her mouth with his fingers, allowing her to lick her juices from them. He waited until they were clean. He placed one hand behind her head and pulled her face forward and down, to his erection. The other hand guided the glans into her mouth in one smooth motion that brought it to nestle against the back of her throat. “Now cat, now” ***[font="times new
roman"]
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Hello my name is kate - 
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