A bunny turned up by my door today, no lies. Just sat right by the screen.
I’m calling it happy foreshadowing.
tail
Happy Easter, bunnies.
Since I’ve been brave lately.
This is my tail, gifted by Craftsmate.
It’s fake fur, attaches to the handle of my butt plug and makes me blush like no other.
Meow.
Craftsmate had made me dinner and, after serving himself, put my plate on the floor. I got down onto my knees and went to start eating when he interrupted me.
“Not yet,” he said, picking up the roll of duct tape and taping my hands into little fists.
I huffed, pawing my napkin closer before gingerly lowering my face down to pick up a piece of broccoli.
Craftsmate watched for a few minutes with a smirk on his face as I carefully avoided getting food on my face as best as I could. All of a sudden, he reached forward and grabbed my hair.
“That’s not how kitties eat,” he insisted before shoving my face deep into the plate, covering it in food and sauce. “Kitties are messier, like this.” He pushed down a bit longer, shaking my head against the plate before pulling me up.
I stifled a whimper and cursed at him. Getting this vulnerable still scares me sometimes. I’m frightened when things start to get messy, especially when it comes to how much I enjoy it.
My head processes this sort of stuff in a way that figures that if I express outrage my partner will do it again without me having to ask. But this time, I had to.
“Do that again?” I choked out. I hated having to admit I liked it. I was ashamed to admit I wanted it. But, he complied, reaching up and shoving my face into the food once more.
“Good kitty,” he murmured as he practically wiped the dish with my face.
Without another word, I swallowed my pride and started eating.
Cats Don’t Do the Dishes, Part Two
When I got into Craftsmate’s room, I set my clothes down on the floor down by the door and he approached me, giving me a hug and smoothing my hair back. I was nervous, but I showed him the plug in my ass, pushing my panties aside so he could see the handle.
From his box of random crafts supplies, he pulled out a piece of leather and tied it to the end of my plug. He had been hinting a bit at the notion of having me be a pet and I had expressed interest. “There you go, kitty, you’ve got a tail,” he said and patted my ass. “Now, I’m going to make dinner and you can clean what I’ve left in the sink.”
I huffed. “But cats don’t do the dishes. You’re conflating fantasies.” Nonetheless, he made me put an apron over my basically naked body and leashed me to the sink.
At one point, there was a knock on the door and I managed to work the leash off and run into his bedroom. It was, of all people, his neighbor The Prodigy looking to borrow some nutmeg. Once she had left, he went into the bedroom, brought me back out into the kitchen, and tied the leash back onto the sink.