Kitty pulled on her stockings and garters, reveling in their silken softness. Her new leather collar bit at her throat, but it brought a smile to her face nonetheless. The night was young, the moon was full, and she was feeling it, the thrill in her stomach almost unbearable as she thought of seeing her Master at the party. The mirror was kind tonight, and she brushed out her flaming red hair that was her Master's pride, wriggling a bit in the short skirt that showed her shapely legs, rising sensuously from the high-heeled boots.
Striding outside to the car, she swung her hips playfully, catching the eye of the neighbor's husband, and watching him get soundly cuffed by his wife for looking. Kitty stretched sinuously, taking her time getting into the driver's seat, showing as much leg as she dared, like a cat gliding along the doorframe to take as much time as possible coming in. She lapped up the attention like cream. It was good to be young, beautiful and alive tonight, and her Master would know it.
The party itself was slowly getting underway, and when Kitty arrived she assisted the Deejays in getting their equipment set up, the participants settled, the coat check room in place before her own Master got there. She felt, rather than heard or saw, his entrance, and breathed deeply, settling into the ritual of obedience, feeling her excitement settle to a warm flutter in her belly like red butterflies in fishnets. Slinking to her appointed place, she crouched, feline, at the bottom of the stairs to the stage; flat-footed, her hands in their delicate black lace gloves together, fingers brushing the hardwood, her head proudly raised, her expression inscrutable, her eyes narrowed, a slight, forbidden smile curving her lips.
She watched the slow approach of her Master; he took his time, teaching her patience as one would a disobedient animal. She stole an outlaw glance at his lean, beautiful body as he strode into the room. She didn't dare meet his eyes; as such an act would bring swift retribution, and a lengthening of his greeting rounds of the partygoers. Her eyes lingered on his long, golden hair, his fine, almost elfin features, and his graceful hands, so gentle, yet capable of bringing such exquisite torture. Something caught at her eye, and she ignored the presence of the woman beside him, a hanger-on perhaps. His gray eyes swung around to Kitty, and she expertly kept her eyes narrowed to hide her disobedience. The blush that rose on her cheeks gave her dead away. He sidled up beside her and grabbed a handful of her hair, avoiding the cat ear headband she wore so proudly, and growled into her ear, "So, disobeying me already are you, my pet? I barely get here and already you are looking for trouble! Indeed, you have it! What is it you want, little one?"
Kitty gasped, bracing herself in her precarious position in her crouch, not daring break the pose. "Only your pleasure, Master," she whispered, pouring her affection into her voice, her obedience, her passion, for dearly did she love her Master.
"Good, my pet, good answer," he purred softly, bringing the riding crop in his hand around to tap her lightly beneath her chin, reminding her that it was there. She shuddered. His breath was warm in her ear, his skin smelled of cinnamon and cloves, and she breathed deep of him, praying he could not see the way her heart raced so. The crop caught her at the flanks and he drove her up the steps to the stage center. The woman followed him up, closely. It rankled Kitty a bit; this was her time, and though she was really not allowed to be jealous of his other lovers, she still preferred to believe she was the center of his universe, at least for a few brief, shining moments. She pushed the thought away.
The Master tapped her shoulder, and Kitty rose obediently, arching her back, raising her head, and she flicked her eyes over to catch a glance at the follower. She was young, pretty, thin and graceful as was befitting a courtesan of an Elfin Prince, and Kitty suddenly hated her intensely, her own physical shortcomings springing to her mind as she mentally compared herself to her. The crop caught her sharply across the shoulder, and she flinched. "Eyes up here, Kitty!" the Master growled. Kitty narrowed her eyes and caught his burning gray stare; one could almost see her ears laid back, her hackles rising. This did not go past her observant Master, and he brought a rain of stinging blows to her rump that made her writhe. "Mind yer manners, pet." She refocused on his eyes, thinking, 'no one else but him. He is the center, now, no distractions.'
He put her hard to her paces, relentless; fetching with her mouth, scampering about through obstacles. The young woman never left his side, and once in a while he would caress her shoulder, drop a kiss to her cheek, her neck, and it was almost Kitty's undoing. She nearly botched a delicate kata he had her in the midst of performing as his lips brushed the girl's. Kitty could feel her face flush, and she cursed herself for getting distracted. The Master seemed keenly aware of what this was doing to her, and watched her reactions as one would a particularly interesting specimen in a jar. He pulled her shirt off, exposing her breasts and nipple rings for the crowd to admire, and Kitty felt her pride, keenly.
Finally he held up the bit gag and blindfold for Kitty to kiss and submit to. The blindfold made her nervous, and the frisson of agitation alerted the Master again to her distraction. His hand twined again in her hair before the blindfold went into place, his eyes meeting hers closely, and there could be no lies between them. "Something making you nervous, pet?"
She stumbled over her answer, desperately not wanting to tell him of her jealousy, but caught between the sin of anxiety, and the sin of silence in the face of his query. She pleaded with her eyes; he just had to know that the young woman was making her guts writhe in agitation, making her feel ugly, fat and ungainly. "N-n-no, Master, its' nothing," she said softly, but the way her eyes dropped from his gave away her lie.
He shook her head slightly to get her eyes back up to his, and she met them again, the pain evident, fighting back tears. "Nothing, indeed." He slipped the blindfold over her eyes, and the gag into place in her mouth. Kitty bit down on the hard rubber where it sat between her canines, imagining it to be the pretty girl's neck, until she heard her jaw creak with the strain.
The crop was again at her shoulder, and she arched her back prettily. Then, it was quiet, and there was no sound from her Master. What was he doing? Kitty's mind raced, scenes of unbelievable passion between her beloved Master and this usurping female playing havoc in her mind. Her sensitive ears caught the soft sound of a woman in the throes of ecstasy, but she could not tell if it was her, or one of the partiers. She berated herself for making mountains of molehills, and concentrated again on maintaining her pose, her fingers unconsciously flexing like claws sheathing and unsheathing.
Now, she did hear a soft gasp, and she knew the sound well; it was the soft cry of one whom has been bitten by the wicked canines of her Master, and his own quiet sigh of pleasure. Gods! She thought, is he really pleasuring her as I sit here like a Siegfried and Roy spectacle?
Her stomach plummeted as she heard the very distinctive sound of a passionate kiss bestowed, and keenly felt the lack of his soft, familiar lips on her own. She bit down again on the rubber bit, feeling it give just slightly. Her eyes squeezed shut beneath the blindfold, the plush eating the tears that sprung to them. She denied the scene that played out even now in her head, though she knew well it was what was happening on the other side of the leather and fuzz that covered her eyes, though she dared not move the blindfold with her unfettered hands.
Her fingers clenched and unclenched, her knuckles white the muscles screaming with the strain, as she heard the girl giggle obscenely at some well placed lick by the Master. No! Kitty's mind screamed, over and over, her jaw aching with the taxing of her teeth on the bit, he just can't be making love to this girl right here before me! Not like this!! A soft moan escaped her own throat, unable to stop it, a quiet sob that gave away her discomfiture, but she dared not break her pose. Another sigh of pleasure from the girl brought Kitty's heart into her mouth, pounding at her temples.
The Master's voice cut through her hellish reverie, "Is there a problem, Kitty?"
Tell him this is killing you! Kitty's mind howled at her, Break this scene and go into his arms! It is easier to beg forgiveness than get permission, dammit! But she let the shudders of revulsion go through her like water. She would not break the scene, not for some silly girl who knew not what she did. Kitty was far too much the showman to let this get to her to the point where she would drop her composure and beg for… for… her mind railed at the word. The safe word. The one that would end the scene, and signal her weakness; Surrender. No, she would not give up this moment. Let him kill her slowly with jealousy; let him kiss this silly girl until she squealed with delight. Kitty would not let it get the best of her. She could ignore what she could not see, go somewhere else in her mind until he called her back with a word, her sharp ears were tuned to the sound of his voice, distinctive as it was. She straightened her back from the slump she was dropping into, snarled her lips around the gag, and shook her head in negation to his question.
She heard the Master rise to standing from wherever it was he had lain with the girl, and Kitty's snarl was apparent around the bit. She felt his hands in her hair, his breath warm in her ear, and she didn't realize she was trembling until he stroked her forehead tenderly. "Easy, there, pet," he purred gently in her ear, "You are doing so well. I will ease this for you, perhaps? Let me remove this…" and he removed the blindfold, but not the gag.
Kitty's watering eyes slowly focused onto his calm gray gaze. He swiped the running mascara from beneath her eyes, allowing her the respite from looking like a raccoon in this moment of torture. His hands were warm on her wrists, and he bound them swiftly behind her back with a soft rope he had coiled under his belt. Confused, and still gagged, Kitty kept her eyes locked on him, dreading to look over onto the couch where she knew the girl lay reclined, and maddeningly half-nude.
