Jemima peeked out of the bedroom door wearing only the collar he’d put on her the day before and her tiny cross necklace. The last thing she wanted was to bump into Mrs. Cook or James on her way to the duke’s study.
There was no one there. Dust motes danced in the light sharding in from the high window and an admiral butterfly, trapped in the house, fluttered near the chandelier. Other than that, all was still and silent.
She stepped out, the floorboards cool on her soles until she reached the long, dark green rug that ran around the landing.
Pressing her forearm over her breasts, and setting the other at the junction of her thighs, she ran on her tiptoes to the top of the stairs. Once there she hesitated, looked over her shoulder, then strained to see the front door and the vast hallway.
There was no one to see.
She gulped. She’d have to just run and hope for the best. Get to the relative safety of the duke’s study and pray that he’d protect her modesty.
Hardly protected from him though.
She’d spent nearly twenty-four hours with the duke, much of that half naked or naked. His gaze upon her didn’t have the same humiliating effect as one of his staff member’s would.
With her heart pounding, she raced down the flight of stairs. At the base she hesitated, in a momentary panic about which way she should go. The dining room was opposite and she regained her bearings. After darting past the dresser with the vase and the trinkets, a tall grandfather clock, and a row of portraits—stern elderly men—she came to the corridor that led to his study door.
She paused outside, glancing left and right, then knocked.
She did, quickly, and shut the door behind herself.
“Ah, good, you’re here.” He looked up from his painting and set down his brush.
She was breathing fast as she leaned on the door, the wood cool on her shoulders.
“Whatever is the matter?” he asked.
“I didn’t want anyone to see me running around your house naked.”
“And clearly you were running.” He smiled and let his gaze trail down her body. “You are quite out of breath.”
She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“But do not fear, I will protect your modesty.”
“I understand that, but still, it is not entirely normal to be without attire.”
“Mmm.” He tipped his head and rubbed his temple. “I was thinking about that.”
“You were?” Was he going to allow her to dress? The room was perfectly warm, a fire lit even this time of year, but she wouldn’t complain if he allowed her a chemise or her petticoat.
“Yes, there is something missing.” He moved to a drawer and opened it. From it he withdrew a shiny object that had a long fluffy golden piece of material attached to it.
“What is it?” she asked. It certainly didn’t look like clothing, or anything that would cover her up at all for that matter.
“It’s something every little kitten should have.” He held it up and the material hung tail-like to the floor. It was nearly as long as her leg.
Her mouth hung open as she realized what it was.
“Ah, I can see you like it.” He ran his hand down it as he bit on his bottom lip, studying her.
“Tail, yes, it is.” He held the top out to her. It was a smooth, pointed wedge with a small bar at the base. “And this will keep it in place.”
She swallowed. “In place where, Sir?”
“Where do you think?”
Shaking her head, she glanced at the floor. Her toes were set over a swirling green leaf patterned into the rug.
“I do not know.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I am sure.” A tremor of nerves was growing in her belly. She locked her knees and clasped her hands together. She had a good idea what the duke intended to do with the plug and tail. He was going to put it in her pussy, the way he had his fingers the night before. He was going to stuff it up there so the tail hung down, between her legs, dangling much the way it was now.
“In that case, if you really do not know, I will show you.” He cupped her elbow. “This way.”
“But I…” She pulled from him. She really didn’t fancy that thing inside her. His fingers were fine, his cock even, but that…
He didn’t let go. “But you what?”
“I don’t want it.”
He sucked in a breath and a muscle danced in his cheek. “You don’t want the tail?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want a tail. Who would?”
“You…” His tone was low, dangerous. “Have no idea what you want or need, you hear me?”
She gulped, sensing she’d pushed him too far.
“And if you ever… I mean ever, roll your eyes like that at me again, I will tan your hide so hard you won’t sit down for a month, and I’ll pay to keep you here to make sure that’s the case by taking a strap to you every time you try to take a seat.”
There was something in his expression—a determined fixed jaw, narrowed eye—that told her he wasn’t lying. He’d do exactly that and her poor bottom would be thoroughly abused by her actions.
“Have I made myself clear?” he said, his tone still dark.
“Yes, Sir.” She nodded and was careful to keep steady eye contact with him.
He didn’t speak; instead he led her to his table by the window. The right side of it had been cleared of paper, quills, and debris. “Bend over.”
Her face heated, her cheeks burning up.
“As we’ve discussed previously, I know you can hear me. So do it.” He pressed the top of her back and urged her to tip forward. “When you’re told to.”
She had no choice but to bend double. The wood was cool and hard and her breasts flattened on it as he ensured she was stretched out on the surface.
Her ass felt vulnerable, the way it had when he’d tipped her over his lap the day before—bare, defenseless, and exposed.
She tried to calm the tremor in her belly that stretched downward, between her legs and to her pussy.
“Now you must try and relax for this bit, little kitten,” he said, his voice softer again. “Do you understand?”
He ran his fingers down her spine slowly, tracing each vertebra. When he reached her behind he smoothed over each globe of flesh, tracing the area of heat he’d created the day before.
She stared out of the window, seeing the stretch of lawn and the tree line but barely registering it. Her buttocks were taut, her legs braced, and her spine stiff.
“I demand of you, relax,” he said, his voice was sterner again.
She snatched in a breath then blew it out slowly, willing the tension to leave her body. She visualized it breezing from her on the air, leaving her a slumped form over the desk. She was helpless yet willing now, and she also had to trust him.
“That’s it, you’re doing so well.” He reached for something else out of the drawer. “You have such a dear little bottom,” he said. “So soft and smooth.”
Jemima didn’t know how to respond to that compliment so she said nothing.
“And now the blush from your spanking has faded it’s beautifully pale again too. It’s like freshly drawn milk.”
He tugged her left cheek outward.
She curled her toes on the rug and clenched.
“No.” A sharp stinging slap landed on her rear.
“Ouch!” She jerked forward, her hipbones bumping on the wood.
Oh, but it was hard not to. He’d exposed her most private hole and was obviously looking right at it. Cool air washed over her intimate flesh, slipping to her pussy.
“Widen your stance.” He tapped her foot with his boot.
She did, a fraction.
“More,” he snapped, again tapping her with his boot.
She gulped and obeyed despite it being against her instincts.
“That’s it.” He ran his hand down the shallow cleft of her buttocks. When he reached her asshole he stopped.
“Sir!” She raised her head, her neck arching.
“This is where your tail will go, little kitten.” He applied pressure to the center of her pucker.
“Please God, no, not there.” Her eyes were wide and unblinking. Her heart rate picked up. Was he serious?
“Yes, here.” He eased his cool fingertip into her.
“Oh!” She balled her hands into fists. The sensation was so new, so dark and forbidden. How on earth had he come up with this idea?
“As I said, you will have to relax,” he said, pushing in some more.
“This is wrong,” she gasped then held the air in.
“Your body is mine, you have handed it over to me, and this is what I wish for you.” He pushed in, until his knuckle sat flush on her buttocks. His finger was slick, as though he’d oiled it. “I wish for you to have a tail.”
She huffed out the breath and tried to get used to the sensation of him being inside her… there.
“That’s it.” He leaned over, his jacket brushing her arm and shoulder and his mouth by her ear. “You’ll like it, you’ll soon understand that. Before long you’ll be begging to wear your tail.”
She wasn’t sure about that, but she was getting used to the invasion.
And then, just as she thought that, he withdrew.
“Now for the tail.”
She trembled again, a full body shake that made her teeth chatter and her knees wobble.
If he noticed he didn’t say anything, instead he set the tip of the plug over her once again tightly closed rosebud. Like his finger had been, it was cool and greased.
“I have been looking forward to seeing you wearing this,” he said almost as if to himself. “So pretty.”
She reached forward and gripped the lip of the table, then went up onto her toes as he applied pressure.
“Steady now, this first time will be the hardest to get used to, but it won’t hurt, it will just feel strange.” He placed his free hand on the small of her back, holding her still and firmly against the table.
“Oh… oh… oh…” She was panting as the plug went higher, stretching her hole and filling her. The length of the tail brushed the back of her right leg and behind her knee, but she hardly noticed that. Her asshole was being widened, so wide, a nip of pain created a groan deep in her chest.
“Nearly there,” he said. “Nearly… there.”
There was a popping sensation, as if the plug had fully entered her and her ass had closed around it. She lurched forward; the dense heaviness in her butt followed her.
“That’s it.” He rubbed a soothing circle on her back then smoothed over her ass cheeks. “You’ve taken it, and it’s so pretty.”
His voice was wistful and she used the calming property of his tone to slow her breathing. She was embarrassed to have something in her ass but equally relieved that it didn’t hurt, just felt peculiar.
“You can stand,” he said, slipping his hands up to her shoulders and tugging.
Jemima used the table to support her as she gingerly straightened. The plug shifted within her behind and the tail swished against the back of her legs.
“You have no idea how delightful you are,” he said.
She stared at his face, at his eyes. Emily had warned her of quirks and unusual desires and demands but this she could never have dreamed up.
“Now one more thing for the day.” He reached behind himself and picked up a small pallet containing a blob of black paint and a tiny brush. “Hold still.”
She was hardly daring to move so it wasn’t hard to do as he’d instructed.
Once again he covered the tip of the brush in paint, then carefully, with a look of extreme concentration, set about coloring the end of her nose in, and then fashioning whisker-type lines over her cheeks.
“Perfect.” He stepped back, brush aloft, and smiled. “You are exactly as I’d hoped.”
Turning and setting the brush and palette down with a clunk, he raised his hands. “And now my little kitten must eat.”
Jemima wasn’t sure if she’d be able to concentrate on eating, despite her morning hunger.
“Come.” He wrapped his hand around hers. “To the fire, stay warm.” He nodded at her nipples. “I can see you are chilled.”
She glanced downward. Her nipples were hard little points, the flesh on her breasts goose-bumped. She didn’t feel cold, but she did feel alive with sensation, as if her nerves were heightened.
She managed a few careful steps, embarrassed when her thighs slicked together and her pussy trembled. The plug inside was rubbing on parts of her that seemed to enjoy the pressure.
“That’s it.” He led her to the fire then gestured to the sofa. “Sit and I will get your food.”
“But, Sir, I can’t… sit. Not with…”
“Of course you can.” He reached for the tail and held it between them. The plug shifted ever so slightly. “Just look after this,” he said. “You wouldn’t want it tugged or squashed, now would you.”
“No, Sir.” She took it from him.
Carefully she did as he’d asked. Much to her surprise as she set more weight on her ass it was quite comfortable. The plug was high and secure and the cushions soft.
“You see,” he said, smiling. “It’s not so bad after all.”
She pressed her lips together. She wanted to ask how long he’d want her to be a kitten with this tail in. The paint on her face, the collar, even drinking from the saucer she could handle but this was something else.
You have to do this. It’s a way to survive, Jemima. A new future.
She knew that truth, so rested back, holding the tail on her lap, and watched as he strode to a bowl of water on a stand.
He washed his hands with soap, dried them, then retrieved a tray from near the door.
After setting it on the table beside the sofa, he handed her a plate of cheese, bread, and apple. “Breakfast.”
He stared at her.
“Are you eating, Sir?”
“I ate earlier, while you were bathing.”
She took a bite of bread. It was beautifully fresh and soft.
“I wish you to rest by the fire while I work. I have much to do today. Though if you are well behaved perhaps you will get a treat later.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“What treat, Sir?”
He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. “You will have to wait and see.”
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