I nibbled the end of my pen and gazed out the open window. A haze clung to the dewy grass. The world beyond my yard seemed out of focus. The crisp air coaxed goosebumps to rise on my bare thighs and I picked up my coffee cup, welcoming the warmth.
I doodled on the yellow legal pad as I sipped my morning muse trying to stitch together words and images to find a story. Something other people would like, something that might make them smile. I enjoyed the thought of readers peeking inside my brain and seeing the dirty nonsense that rolls through my head like ticker tape and recognizing a tawdry part of themselves. But nothing really excited me this morning.
My pen began to sputter ink and I scribbled it one last time in the hopes of revival but the well used tool had eked out its last line. I flipped it toward the trash can and heard it miss the mark and clatter to the floor. My feline army immediately went to investigate. They determined that there wasn’t a threat and then began their morning request for treats and food. I filled their bowls and gave both of them a scritch on the head before taking on a quest for a new pen.
I opened the first junk drawer and had to jiggle it a bit to settle the contents. I shoved through packs of crayons, Sharpies, spools of thread, a flashlight, batteries, junk mail, and the bits of life that don’t really fit anywhere but in this drawer. Finally, smooshed in the back of the drawer was another ink pen, but laying innocently next to it, was one of my leather collars. I pulled both things out of the drawer.
I loved this collar and remembered how it ended up downstairs. Sir had brought me downstairs for a saucer of milk. My leash was wound taut in his fist as he allowed me to raise and lower my head to lap up the drink. I spilled the creamy goodness on the floor and remembered the faint taste of floor polish as he made me clean my mess. That was a very good session and we ended up sweaty and tangled on the couch. Afterwards, he put up the leash and in my post-orgasmic stupor, I shoved the collar in the drawer before scampering up the stairs to plead my case for a round two.
I was alone this morning. I stuck my pen in my mouth as I fastened the collar around my throat. The bell merrily jingled as I shimmied my shoulders. I admired my reflection in the microwave door and decided that since the cats had morning treats then the Kitten needed a treat as well. I spat my pen towards my legal pad and pulled my saucer from the cupboard. It made my stomach twist in anticipation. I am a Kitten. I am a Kitten. I asked Alexa to play my theme song by Momus and began to wiggle dance to the loud music as I prepared my treat. I didn’t want the actual felines to put their noses in my drink so I set up on the kitchen island. I dragged over a chair so I could hop up on the counter.
I began to lap up the milk. Each flick of my tongue made a gush of delightful comfort trickle down my throat. My nipples grew pert beneath my thin white tank top and I lowered my shoulders to drink so that my tits would brush to cool granite. The carnal satisfaction of lapping and licking made warmth spread all over my body. I closed my eyes as I lapped to the rhythm of the happy music. This was way better than writing. My butt was bobbing. I am a Kitten. I am a Kitten. The familiar roaring ache of sexual need began to consume me. My tongue ravaged the innocent saucer until it was dry. The music abruptly stopped.
I startled and scrambled around. His deep voice rumbled across the room.