Chapter 13: Santa’s Baby: Chapter 12

User 290. Male. 63.

Here, kitty kitty.

You’ve been away for quite a while, and I want my pussycat home, where she belongs.

You’ll be chastised for being a bad kitty, because good kitties never leave their owners and run away – but once you’ve learnt your lesson, I’ve got some treats for you.

I want my pussy cat around for a long evening, and I expect to play kitty games the way we always play them.

Cat outfit, and nothing but meows, please. Food from your bowl only. Plenty of ‘fuss’ on the sofa with your owner, and being a good kitty as you sit on his lap.

And not forgetting the litter tray, of course.

Duration: 9 hours.

Proposal price: £12,000.

User 290 has become one of my favourites. I’ll be a good kitty for him tonight.

I’m careful as I put my cat headband in my bag, not wanting to damage the fluffy ears, because he deserves the best looking kitty he can get, but I prepare myself with my cat tail butt plug before I go. It’s too much of a struggle to try to work that thing into my ass when I’m mewling outside his door.

Pet play was never something on my radar before I joined the Agency. Dressing up as a cat for nine hours straight was never a game I imagined playing, but it’s actually good fun. I love being a pussy who is having her pussy used, and User 290 is a very good owner.

It will get my mind off Reuben too, which is a sensible blessing. I have to laugh at myself in the mirror as I give my lip gloss a final check. What the fuck ever. My mind has been on Reuben every single second since I left Evesham. I’ve been avoiding Josh and Ella like the plague, since Josh would notice my glee in a heartbeat. I’m like a bloody schoolkid crushing over a heartthrob.

My long, fake fur coat hides my butt plug tail alright in the cab, but it’s a bastard to sit on. It’s quite a chunky sonofabitch, since it has to stay in place so long. Wouldn’t want to lose my tail in the middle of play.

My client lives right at the top of a block in Kensington, on a floor of his own, so I get some privacy when I’m outside his front door. There, I prepare myself. I drop my coat on the floor, leaving me stark naked besides my tail plug, and fish my cat ears from my bag. It’s high quality, with tight clips that secure it in my hair, so it’s not coming out anytime soon. I fasten my collar around my neck, with its tiny bell, and then it’s time for the final part of my makeup. I use my compact mirror and my face pencil and get to work on my nose and whiskers. I’m quite practiced at this by now, so it looks kinda cute when I’m done. Being a cat suits me. Maybe I was one in a past life. With a life like this kitty has, it wouldn’t be all that bad.

I click on arrived before I put my kitty paw gloves on, because I can’t use a touch screen through fur. Then it’s down on my knees time, with my coat and bag ditched beside me. I give him a loud mewl and push a hand through the cat flap, batting it around in a fake attempt to get inside.

The cat flap gives me enough of a glimpse to see User 290’s shoes walking down his hallway. I’m smiling up like a good kitty as he lets me in, crawling past him on all fours and rubbing myself against his legs. He grabs my coat and bag and drops them inside before he closes the door.

“Where have you been, Priscilla?” he says, with his hands on his hips, towering over me. “You’ve been downstairs again, haven’t you? Look how many treats they’ve been giving you!”

User 290 does love a well fed pussy…

That’s a good thing, because so do I.

I rub against his leg again, arching myself like a cat would with a mewl. The bell around my neck gives a little jingle, but it doesn’t win Priscilla any favours. He kicks me away from him, pointing his finger as he calls me a bad girl. I try rubbing myself against his leg again, and get the same result – another nudge of his shoe under my belly as he shoves me away. One more go, and he’s rougher, he toes me in the ribs and sends me sprawling.

“BAD GIRL!”

Now is the time to be a good kitty and apologise. I roll onto my back with my gloved hands in a begging position and my legs held up, offering him my belly with another mewl. I give him a flutter of my eyes, staring up at my grand owner as I silently ask for a fuss.

User 290 has to be at least six foot two. He’s as skinny as a rake, and his fingers are long and savage. He always looks super stern when he’s chastising me.

“No more going downstairs! No more treats from other people!”

I open my thighs so he can see his pussy’s pussy, and stretch my arms above my head.

Meow.

I squirm, offering my naked body as a token of my kitty affection. He manages to hold out for a minute or so before he sighs and breaks. He drops to a crouch at the side of me.

“What am I going to do with you, hey? Who can stay mad at such a cutie?”

He tickles under my chin before he runs his fingers down, petting his kitty. I love how zealous he is with my tits, arching my back and mewling for more. It’s my tummy next – his favourite. He works my belly like I’m a treasure, tickling and rubbing me up and down. He rubs lower and lower each time, until he’s rubbing his pussy cat’s horny pussy. Fuck, it feels nice. I clench my ass around my tail plug to let the sensations ripple.

“Do they give you strokes like this downstairs? I bet they do. You’d better start remembering, Priscilla. I’m your owner. I’m going to block up the cat flap unless you’re a good girl and stay with your daddy.”

He slides two long fingers inside me.

“You’ve missed your daddy, haven’t you?”

I twist and arch against his fingers, with a sweet meow. Yes, I have missed ‘Priscilla’s’ cat daddy. I haven’t been here in over a month. Being a cat slut is such an obscure, welcome break from being a human one. No words needed, no conversation. Nothing but a cat accepting what her gracious owner wants to give her. User 290 always gives me a lot.

He pets me so well – all the way up and down – from my slippery cunt, to my belly, tits, chin. He loves to focus on my belly. He gives it a jiggle.

“Look how many treats they’ve been giving you…” he says again.

I haven’t mastered the art of purring, but I’ve got a range of meows down pat. I answer him in cat language, shifting myself towards his touch as any fussed cat would do. I smile as he gives me another tickle under the chin, relaxing into the zone.

I’m Priscilla the pussy, and my pussy wants some action.

“Come on, kitty cat,” he says, and gets to his feet. “Let’s get you some milk.”

I crawl to the kitchen after him, staring up as he gets a bottle from the fridge. I lick my lips with another meow, and scuffle along as he takes it through the living room. Priscilla’s feeding bowls are waiting on the floor. He fills my drinking bowl up with milk right to the top, generous, and I position myself so I’ll be facing him when he drops himself onto the sofa.

He’s watching me with eager eyes as he takes his regular seat, and my eyes fix on his as I lower my face to the bowl. I use slow, long sweeps of my tongue to lap up the milk. So messy, and yummy, but it feels so fucking kinky.

“That’s it, kitty cat, drink up your milk. You must be thirsty.”

The filthy smirk on his face and the way he palms his cock through his trousers makes my clit pulse. I want to be a good pet and lick up every last drop.

It’s sweetly humiliating being Priscilla, on all fours on a guy’s carpet while I lap up milk from a plastic pet bowl. It takes fucking ages to drink like this, with milk getting up my nose and dribbling down my chin, but I manage it. I’m licking the bowl clean by the time I’m done, and User 290’s eyes are still fixed on mine.

Meow, I say, as though I’m hungry for more, but he shakes his head.

“No, kitty, that’s enough. If you’re a good girl, you can have some more with your dinner.”

I look at the empty plastic bowl next to me – the one for my evening meal, and next to that, just a little way along the wall, is my litter tray. Nice and tidy, just waiting to be soiled. That’s one of my favourite parts of this proposal, every single time. Soiling the litter tray while he watches me.

User 290 pats the sofa beside him, and I scurry on over. I know the position he likes me in, and lie down on my back for another fuss, my head in his lap as he smiles down at me.

“Such a beautiful pussy cat,” he says, and resumes with the tickles. “You enjoyed your milk, didn’t you?”

I give a meow, not a nod, sweeping my tongue around my lips as he runs his hand down to my horny slit.

“Maybe you’ll get some special milk later, if you’re really good for your daddy.”

I know User 290’s special milk, and I’m always desperate for it by the time it comes. It won’t be yet though, since he means pet play when he says it. He wants me to act like a cat for him. He’s got pictures of cats all over his living room, and has some cartoon cat magnets on his fridge. The guy is obsessed with them.

It only makes me keener to play the part.

He switches the TV on as though it’s just a normal evening with his cat lying at his side, but I’m feeling more demanding than usual.

My mind is drifting to Reuben when it should be here, and I don’t want that. Reuben thinking is becoming as obsessive to me as cats are to the guy on the sofa. If I don’t watch out, I’ll be putting Reuben Sinclair magnets on my fridge before I know it.

User 290 doesn’t help with distraction. The TV shows he likes are dull as fuck. I don’t want to be watching Gardener’s World when my clit is throbbing, and tonight I can hardly take it. I want User 290 to be petting his kitty cat with all of his attention, not sharing him with closeups of tulips and honeysuckle. I rub my head in his crotch with a meow, and squirm, offering my kitty tits to him.

“Stop it, Priscilla,” he says with a chuckle. “You know I like this programme.”

Yes, he fucking does, and to be fair, it’s not always this bad. Gardening isn’t my bag, no, but I quite often enjoy the chill out, lying on my side with my head on his thigh, whittling away the whiles as he strokes me, but I’m more frustrated this evening. I won’t stop pawing and mewling and stealing his attention from the show.

“Priscilla!”

I don’t stop. I grip his hand in my fluffy paws and playfully bite his arm with catlike games, and his tone lightens up as he laughs.

“You’ve got a lot of energy tonight. How about we sort that out?”

Crap, I’ve forgotten about some of the games User 290 has up his sleeve. I know his smirk as he reaches past the arm of the sofa and grabs a stupid battered mouse toy. He teases me with it before lobbing it across the room, and I could curse as I have to jump to attention. I shift my fat butt and leap down onto the floor like I’m on the hunt for a real mouse. I scrabble for it, batting it around the place with my fluffy glove until I pin it down and bite at it.

I chew on a fake mouse as User 290 grins at me.

“Bring it back,” he says and clicks his fingers.

I play up for a few seconds at his command, since I’m a cat, not a bloody dog – making him lower his tone before I grip the thing in my teeth and take it back to him.

He loves it as I scurry back and forth, mewling and clawing at the bastard toy every time he throws it. My heart is pounding and my butt is sore from my swinging tail by the time he tells me enough is enough and puts it away.

I’m grateful to be back up on the sofa when he pats the seat again. Tulips and honeysuckle are a welcome contrast to playing mouse games, so I max out the time with my head on his lap, relishing the stroke of his hand on my belly.

But still, my pussy is aching.

I want my owner to touch Priscilla like his good little kitty cat. To play with her with his hands and his cock, not just a cat toy. Meow, I tell him, and then I climb up, resting my fluffy paws on his thighs as I meet him face to face. So many words to choose from but another sultry meow seals the deal. He knows kitty cat is a dirty feline who wants more attention.

He relishes in my denial, sadistic bastard, giving me nothing more than a token stroke across the back and a gentle pull on my tail. Jesus, how it strains.

“No more fussing until after your dinner,” he says, and is if on cue, the credits for the end of the gardening programme show up onscreen. Three in a fucking row, we’ve played through.

He swats me off his lap. “Move, Priscilla. Let’s fill your tummy up.”

My tummy almost makes me retch at this bit. It’s not my favourite in the slightest. I was hoping I’d get at least a taste of dick before things took this avenue.

I cross my fingers that he’s gone for something vaguely palatable, but when he holds up the can, it’s the one I hate most. His cold stew, in his fake cat food tin, with the carrot bits I despise. He makes this one on purpose, because he knows I don’t like it. He’s testing me. I see the glint in his eyes as well as the swelling bulge in his pants. His dick is rock hard under there.

I haven’t come once yet, and no cock has come my way, and I have no reason to resent it. He’s paying through the fucking nose for me to be his kitty cat, so I’ll be one. I don’t know where the frustration comes from as my owner empties my portion of his gross looking cat food into the feeding bowl. If Priscilla was a real cat, no wonder she’d be fucking off downstairs.

My heart is in my throat as I line myself up ready to chow down my grim dinner. I have to try my best not to retch and hurl it up whenever he dishes up this load of shit, but he knows that.

Yes, he’s definitely testing me tonight.

He switches the TV off and sits on the edge of the seat, watching me.

“Eat up, kitty cat, then Daddy will give you another stroke.”

I need something inside me. Fingers, dick, toys – I don’t care. No matter how many times I’ve been touching myself lately, the tingles never fucking leave.

Reuben.

It all comes down to Reuben.

User 290 will have to relieve me, or I’m going to go insane. My cunt’s need for play far outweighs the humiliation of foul tasting cat food. I keep my stare on him and not on the bowl underneath me. I blank my mind to everything but the way he’s watching me, chewing and swallowing, trying not to retch.

When he gets his cock out and starts working his shaft, it’s a whole lot easier. I adore how he encourages me.

“That’s it, eat up now, good kitty. Lick it, like a sweet kitty. Lick it.”

I wriggle my tongue around in the cold gravy, and I can’t help myself. I slide a gloved hand back between my legs and rub myself, hard and fast. It helps so much, it’s insane. I don’t care what I’m eating anymore, I gobble it gladly, mewling and lapping and swallowing, until once again I’m licking my bowl clean.

“More milk for kitty,” he says and beckons me over.

I hate how I have stop rubbing myself to crawl over to him. I crouch between his legs when he offers his dick to my grotty mouth, lapping him up and down with my dirty tongue. And then I gobble him with more want than I ate my cat food.

I want his milk.

“Good girl, Priscilla,” he says as my head bobs. He takes my hair as I lap at him. “Good kitty cats get the cream.”

And Creamgirl gets the cum. Always.

I know how to mewl around his dick as he fucks my mouth. I’m well prepared when he gets to his feet so he can drive his cock harder into his kitty’s throat. I look up at him as he does it, my chin covered with cat food and dried milk. I must be a mess, but I’m his treasured pet serving her owner, and I feel like a superstar as he grabs his balls and tells me to open wide.

The first spurt hits the back of my throat, and I manage to catch most of the rest. Cum tastes so much fucking better than his cruddy stew. I swallow it down, then lap up the remnants from Daddy’s dirty dick.

Then I smile for him with a different kind of meow.

His kitty cat needs to come now. His kitty’s pussy needs his care.

“On your back, pretty girl,” he says, and I roll over. I spread my legs and give him feral mewls as he finally gives me what I need, stuffing four fingers in my cunt at once. “Beautiful tail,” he says, and I clench my ass tighter. He tugs at it, so I have to fight him to keep it in, brushing my clit with his thumb as he laughs at me.

Then he hooks his fingers inside my kitty cat cunt and really works it.

My tits jig as I do, writhing on the floor. My meows are frantic as he fingers me, because I need it so fucking bad.

But it’s not about being Priscilla the pussy cat. My mind is still filled with Reuben.

I imagine how it would feel to be Reuben’s kitty. Would I lap up milk from a bowl, and play with a mouse toy like a chubby idiot, charging all over his floor? Would I chow down rancid stew, and pretend to enjoy it, and suck his dirty dick like a grateful pussy?

Yes, I would. But more importantly… I’d do it for free.

I’m losing my fucking head.

It’s a relief when User 209 changes position and tugs me up onto all fours. When he’s behind me, I imagine him as Reuben, bucking back at him like he’s the answer to my prayers.

“Let’s see what other treats I can give you,” he says, and I’m panting, because I could take anything.

Jesus Christ, I mewl when I feel something fluffy gliding up and down my wet slit.

Fuck, it’s the mouse toy – I recognise its stupid bobble nose. It’s kinda sick, but kinda hot – in a twist of humiliating perversion. I relish that, shuffling my legs wider.

“Kitty can have her reward,” he whispers.

The toy isn’t fluffy for long. It’s soaked in seconds as he plugs my cunt with it, tugging it out by its tail.

This is off script. He’s never done this before. But I take it. Fuck rules, and proposal guidelines, because I’m already breaking the most fundamental rule there is anyway. I’ve been entertaining a founder. Entertaining my boss.

Entertaining Reuben fucking Sinclair.

Taking a mouse toy in the cunt off script pales into insignificance compared to that shit.

I’m bucking against User 209’s hand as he fucks me with it, wanting deeper and fucking deeper. I’m panting harder, building to a crest, ready to squirt and gush around a fluffy bloody mouse when my client reaches across the living room floor for the litter tray.

“You must need to go to the toilet, kitty. Go on, cutie, use the tray for Daddy.”

My mewl isn’t a meow, it’s a moan.

He guides the tray between my legs, and my chubby thighs have to stretch crazy wide to stay in position. Priscilla’s owner loves watching her piss in the litter tray. It always drives him fucking wild. But I’ve never usually got a mouse toy in my pussy while I do it. He pushes it in deep and lifts my tail up, easing the butt plug out just a touch, enough to be torture.

“Use the tray,” he says. “Come on, kitty. Use the fucking tray.”

The gravel of his voice sets me off. Again, I imagine it’s Reuben. Always fucking Reuben.

I push down on both the toy and the plug, trying to focus on pissing. It’s just a dribble at first, but it speeds up into jet like bursts – settling into one long stream that soaks into the kitty litter. It sounds fucking filthy. It feels fucking divine.

“Dirty pussy,” User 209 says, and yanks the mouse out of me while I’m still dribbling piss from my slit. I’m ready for a decent fucking slamming when he replaces it with his cock, still hoisting my tail in the air so he can see my straining asshole.

Fuck, yes, I’m going to come this time. I meow and meow and fucking meow, rutting back against my owner when he takes hold of my collar and jams in hard. His dick is as long and savage as his fingers, I just wish he’d fuck my plugged up ass with it as well as my cunt.

I’m a mess when I come – literally. Face covered in filth, and a piss filled tray between my legs that I manage to scuff with a thigh while he’s ramming me. Litter goes tumbling onto the carpet, but he doesn’t let up – just keeps on coming as I do.

We come in sync, the dirty kitty cat with her collar bell jingling and her filthy owner grunting and cursing, and it’s fucking perfect. Worth chowing down a bowl of gross dinner for.

Luckily, it’s not more cat food that comes as a reward this time. It’s a fresh bowl of milk. Real milk that will taste like heaven on my foul tongue.

I’m a happy kitty as I lap it up from the bowl, with milk dribbling down my chin and piss dribbling down my thighs.

Priscilla adores User 209.

She’s a very happy kitty with a very happy pussy.

“What shall we watch next?” he says as I settle once more on the sofa with my head on his lap.

I give an attempt at a purr, because I really don’t care what crap we watch.

He strokes my fluffy ears as he flicks through the channels, coming to rest on a baking programme and the contestants are displaying their efforts. Fuck, how my belly rumbles.

It makes me think back to my belly rumbling at dinner with Reuben. How he smiled. How he handed me the menu.

“If only cats could talk,” User 209 says, “what are you thinking about, kitty?”

Another mewl and I nudge his groin with my head.

He chuckles. “Don’t you worry, kitty, let Daddy rest awhile, and then we can play bouncing on my lap. I know that you just love that game.”

He’s not wrong. I do love bouncing on his long dick.

Another purr. Another snuggle.

While Daddy rests up enough for a fresh round, I watch the blonde girl on TV, using her bare hands to slather icing on her cake.

But in my mind, they are my hands, and the cake morphs into Reuben’s cock. A cock I have certainly felt but never laid eyes on.

It’s going to be a long nine hours with kitty Daddy, but in my head it will be Reuben’s cock I’m bouncing on.

Reuben’s hands stroking me.

Reuben, chasing me and grabbing for my tail.

Reuben, ordering me to piss in the litter tray.

Reuben, Reuben, Reuben.

I’m fucking doomed.