3 -- Thursday
Kim made sure to be early the following day if only to keep that nagging fear she'd burn the good will she'd built up with her employers. It might have been irrational, but somehow it seemed 'right' and 'proper', both traits that came to mind when she thought of what her uniform was supposed to represent.
Of course, climbing out of the driver's side window of her Pontiac wasn't either of those things, and the other nagging fear that her door would one day break off made the exercise something of an adventure in which she had to be careful and quick all at once. One day, she was sure, she was going to wind up ass over head tumbling out and soiling the velveteen fabric.
She wouldn't let that happen. It wasn't just a matter of professional pride-- it was personal. Once she was out of her car she smoothed out the wrinkles she'd made and checked herself over in the window's reflection. Right and proper. She smiled proudly.
Elliot's truck was parked alongside the house with the bed facing the back yard, drawing Kim to peek around the corner. He had a few sheets of scrap wood piled up near the truck and saw horses holding up a project that looked like a face down bookcase in the throes of being sealed in urethane. Curious, Kim snuck up and had a quick peek, somehow managing to feel guilty and awed at the same time.
The piece was part curio cabinet and part bookcase, with a facade made up of little hand carved caricatures from Minecraft chasing one another around the cabinet doors with the middle showing off a raised and embossed silver Youtube logo with the initials RMK burned into the middle of the play button.
RMK? Kim puzzled over it for a second-- hadn't he said his daughter's name was Rebecca? Rebecca McKenna. That made her smile a little as she looked over the rest of the bookcase, memorizing its lines and the skill that'd been used to put it together. Not only did the man know how to tame dragons, he could build a house and furnish it. But how had it been that she'd never seen him working on it? Some part of her felt all the more guilty for not being a bigger help to her ma-
employer
.
God, where had that come from?
She exhaled into her bangs and wandered up to the porch giving a quick knock on the door. She came face to face with the very man on her mind she'd been thinking about and stammered out a quick "G- good morning master McKenna." Had he seen her peeking at his work? Shit, shit, shit.
He stood in the doorway with his broad shoulders and powerful features, radiating warmth and that casual confidence that made his presence all consuming. Safe. "Morning, Kim." He brushed past her, tugging two fingers against her freshly starched cuffs. She didn't hesitate to follow. "I have a special project for you today. . . .Rebecca's going to be here tomorrow or Saturday." He lead her around to his work space. "I want to make sure her room is set up, so I'd like you to help me."
Her heart swelled at the notion. "Of course, master McKenna. How may I be of service?"
That got his attention. He looked up from his project with a lofted brow. Slowly, carefully, he considered her from the tip of her feline ear headband to her generous bust, lingering there for a moment before tracing his gaze down her legs to her patent leather shoes. As his gaze roamed back up, Kim fidgeted unconsciously, keenly aware of every rosette she'd drawn on her leg and how it might have not suited her master's expectations. How many imperfections and private incursions into their lives had she tried to hide? Which of them could he see?
Which of them would she be made to pay for?
"Mmm. . ." he smiled to himself before meeting her gaze in that calm way that said he had no doubt as to their standing with each other. "I really do like the spots, you're such a good sport about this."
Kim flushed hot. Of all things, the rosettes made her a good sport? "I wouldn't wish to besmirch your family by being anything less your maid--" in a surge of reckless confidence she turned slightly and juked her hips the way Sylvia had showed her, causing her tail plug to swish across her thighs. It sent a thrill up her spine and she shivered unconsciously.
"Mph. And the tail. . . .yes, definitely like the tail." Elliot ran a hand along the bookcase to ensure the urethane had cured and then he looked to her, leaning forward like someone might overhear what came next. "That was Sylvia's touch. She thought it would weed out the people who just wanted our money."
Kim felt her cheeks burn all the brighter, clenching possessively around her plug. Somehow the thought of Sylvia loosening up enough to take on the uniform sparked in the back of her mind and she bit into her lower lip. It might have been her idea, but now it was Kim's uniform. Kim's profession. "It's funny how that worked out."
"I think you mean 'beautiful', Kim." He held her gaze a beat longer. "We're both quite proud of you," Before Kim could open her mouth to thank him he tapped his finger on the wood like he remembered something. "Which reminds me!" In a smooth motion he hefted the bookcase on to his steel-toed boot to keep it from touching the grass. "You might not realize it, but you've earned high praise from Sylvia. . . .she never agrees with me- ever- when it comes to people. So I think it'd be fitting if we-- if you-- showed her how much you appreciate her praise."
Kim's breath caught and she stared at the man for a moment. "Ah-. . ." He had something in mind, he had to have. She felt her knees go a little wobbly with a flood of images that poured through her mind. The last time she'd earned a 'reward' from Sylvia it'd involved being on her knees and. . .
Judging from the expression Elliot wore, that was exactly what he had in mind.
The blushing catgirl maid cleared her throat and whispered, barely audible, "I would love to. Will you be there to ensure it's done right? I wouldn't want to misstep."
Elliot used one hand to balance his project against his weight and the other to motion her closer. He offered the back of his hand to her cheek, inviting her. She brushed herself against him, sneaking in that little bit closer so her chest was pressed to his. When she was in his personal warmth he reached up and stroked her back, higher and higher--
He grabbed the end of her pony tail and pulled back firmly so her chin rose. The same way he'd done when he'd taken her. No words. No questions, no
doubts
. Her heart jumped and her breathing came faster with the flush of memories. She whimpered. He only bound her hair tighter around two fingers as her hands came to his powerful chest, panting now. Knowing she'd never escape- she wouldn't even fight it if he wanted her here and now.
"You have a hard job,
kitten
." His voice stirred her bangs. "We appreciate what you do for us, and we know how hard you work. . . .but in the end, we're asking a kitten to go against her nature and be obedient. Docile.
To serve
." His fingers slid, stroked through her ponytail, further up and then down through like he was riding the waterfall of hair, the rapids of her lower back and beaching his hand on the crest of her ass. They looked at one another. He clutched her ass.
She leaned in with both hands on his shoulders now. She nuzzled against him, rubbing her cheek to his and her hot breath across his ear. "Meow. . ."
"