Volume 3: The Dancing Kitten
1 -- Monday
Kim woke up to a pleasant soreness that brought flashes of the previous night into her muddled mind; feeling the press of her employer's body against hers as she clutched tight to her mistress's. Even before she opened her eyes to the unfamiliar bedroom she was blushing hot, the memories fluttering around in her like the butterflies in her stomach.
Elliot and Sylvia snoozed on either side of her with their backs pressing her into a warm, messy sandwich. A chicken sandwhich, Kim decided, lush with breast and thigh meat bathed in the salty brine of shared lust and dressed with the rumpled lettuce of her maid's uniform. Kim ran a hand down her body finding her panties a long distant memory-- oh yes, they'd made a fine sandwich. A very creamy one, too.
She could still feel the specter of Elliot's essence warm against her inner thighs and the taste of Sylvia's on the tip of her tongue, a melody that couldn't have been any more pleasant to wake to if she'd willed it into existence. Kim sighed quietly in the stillness, savoring the feeling as her gaze trailed down her employers.
Kim smiled privately as she danced the tips of her fingers down the younger woman's curves, trailing to her tight little butt where the sheets were just barely cresting. Even the tide of cotton which would normally have drowned them was afraid to approach her shores, as if the entire universe knew.
They were both a perfect match in so many ways-- firm and fit, with skin a soft caramel that begged to be touched and kissed. Sylvia's Spanish heritage had given her a particular kind of grace and poise that outlined her power in the loosest way her lithe form could. Nothing could ever truly contain the soul of a dragon, but her flesh tried.
God did it try.
Elliot was just as built and powerful, though his was the kind of strength that years of hard physical exertion built, the military had carved him out of stone and sanded him to a marble effigy of Kim's dreams. He was the light to Sylvia's fire and Kim. . .
Kim wasn't sure here she fit into the equation yet, she was there to serve the family and she didn't have the firm edges the McKennas did. A little heavier, a bit older, curvy and 'plush' as they called her. She was an odd fit for this whole affair, really.
Kim reached over her head to stretch, cool metal brushed her bicep-- the ring in her collar, she realized. Her hand subconsciously fell to the accessory and she swallowed, running her finger over the embroidery that spelled out 'Kitten' across her throat. What she brought to her masters' relationship wasn't heat or light, but it was something else. . . .something they clearly wanted.
Kind of like Kim wanted to get up and clean herself off. But did she dare? She
shouldn't
have left without informing them, should she? Besides, she couldn't take off her own collar, could she? It felt wrong somehow to even consider it.
Just as wrong as it felt to be unpresentable in her masters' presence. Kim carefully went about fixing her uniform first- smoothing down the pleated skirt and re-tying the bodice that pressed her cleavage up and ensuring the frills were all set just so. She made a vain effort to pull up her stockings, if only to hide the rosettes that'd been smeared from sweat the night before. It was no use, though, if she pushed herself to lean down too far she'd risk waking them both up. . .
She couldn't do it. Not until she was ready to face them. No, she'd earned her collar, she wasn't about to sacrifice it by being sloppy.
No sloppier than she already was, anyway.
Kim ran her hands through her blonde hair and smoothed it out as best she could over the band that held her cat ears in place. A little closer to their catgirl maid, she then inhaled deeply and clenched her butt-- she immediately found the familiar source of resistance that utterly defined her as their catgirl maid. The buttplug with the long furry tail attached to it; the lurid reminder that she was employed, owned and idolized for what she was. It made her stomach flutter all the more as she really began to appreciate what she'd accomplished.
She'd been their maid all day and night, she'd been their good little
Kitten
all night and satisfied them both. Pride swelled in her chest as she rolled over and kissed Elliot's shoulder. She gave him a gentle shake and whispered in a purr against his flesh. "Master Mckenna. . ."
"Mmmh. . .?" He didn't need much cohesion, he rolled over some to look up at her with those bottomless brown eyes. He smiled privately with a faint blush already warming his cheeks. After stealing a quick glance at Sylvia's sleeping form- something about which seemed to surprise him- he looked up at Kim questioningly.
Maybe she didn't sleep in much, Kim raised her chin slightly to bear her collar to her master and whispered. "May I be released?"
Elliot looked about to laugh but stopped short. "Since you asked so nicely. . ." He gingerly undid the strap and stroked her hair back, smiling as he cupped her cheek. Then, seeming to reconsider the act he drew back leaving a soft chill where his hand had been. Kim frowned and kissed his bare chest, nuzzling against it until he stroked her hair back.
She could've laid like that forever with his strong hand tracing her outline. Briefly she considered doing exactly that, until she felt his body shift a bit to hide his already hardening member. Kim looked up through her bangs and ran her hand down his body, under the sheets, searching-- stopped when he took her wrist. Obediently, the older maid kissed his chest and eased back.
"I just wanted to please my master. . ."
Elliot smirked and ran his fingers through her hair, lingering there cradling her skull in the way she wished he would-- maybe it was a quiet invitation, maybe it was a reminder that she hadn't
earned
the rights she wanted to have with either of them.
