Graceful Lover

May 6, 2010

Hands ran over her body, and Aretta moaned quietly, leaning into the touch. She couldn’t see his face, but his voice, urgently whispering compliments as his hands played with her small breasts, was to die for. He leaned in closer, his tongue teasing one of her nipples, and she sucked in a sharp breath, her back arching in response. She’d never known someone could get her so worked up, so very turned on, that any little touch like that was like an electrode touching her skin.

When one of his hands slid down her flat stomach, she spread her legs in anticipation, crying out as his fingers spread her folds and his thumb flicked across her clitoris for a moment. A finger, then two, slipped effortlessly into her, her own excitement providing more than adequate lubrication, while his thumb kept brushing over, then more directly rubbing, that deliciously sensitive spot. She pressed herself against his hand, breathing hard and moaning louder.

Amazingly, he seemed to know exactly how and where to touch her, his fingers curling around to press against her other sweet spot, inside her. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the worry that she wouldn’t be able to reprociate the mind-blowing experience he was giving her, but there was something about the situation that told her he wasn’t really expecting her to.

He withdrew his hand for a moment, and she whimpered, lying there with her chest heaving for a few moments until it returned, the touch different but no less maddening; she could have sworn she felt feathers or fur brush across her sensitive nether lips as he caressed her clitoris.

Her hand was brought up to his mouth, and he slowly, sensually, sucked on each of her fingers. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she wasn’t about to question it, not when it, too, somehow managed to feel so… heavenly. With a slightly tickly lick to her palm, he dropped her hand and inched down her body, using both hands to spread her labia, exposing her to his hot breath.

She screamed, actually screamed, when his tongue plunged into her and his cold nose came into contact with her clitoris, just from the sheer intensity of it…

…and found herself woken up by that same sound. She blinked into the darkness, for a moment not certain whether she had, indeed, woken up. The torturously pleasant sensation of someone’s tongue dancing between her thighs was certainly still there. But, as her brain muddled through the heavy fog of pleasure, she came to realize that tongue was too rough for the man in her dreams, and that there were whiskers tickling the insides of her thighs.


The cougar whose muzzle had been pressed against Aretta’s wet sex flinched, her ears folding back as she looked up at the human girl. The creamy white fur on her lips glistened in the dull glow of the nightlight, and her tongue darted out to lick the slightly sticky moisture off them.

“What were you doing?”

“Grace is sorry for offending Mistress,” the large cat whimpered, her ears flattening a little further. “Grace… Grace saw… It would be improper to allow Mistress to sink so low as to have to pleasure herself. Grace is sorry for assuming!”

Aretta blinked. Nobody had told her slaves were given that kind of training. That sexual abuse was par for the course for them, yes, she’d gathered that much. But that people for that sake would be too lazy, or proud, to do their own masturbation?

“Sssh, Gracie, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” She waved the cougar closer. “Come here, and let me try to explain something to you.

“I told you before that I’m not from here, and that where I come from, we don’t keep slaves. I’m used to doing things like that on my own, and I certainly don’t expect you to help me with it. I’m certainly not upset with you, I was just… surprised.”

“Grace is sorry,” the cat said again, meekly.

“It’s okay,” Aretta assured her, reaching up to scratch behind one of her slave’s flattened ears. Grace responded by, purring, turning her head and licking at her owner’s palm and fingers, rough tongue tickling slightly against the human’s skin. “But in the future, you really don’t need to do that.”

Grace nodded, but by the way her ears and whiskers drooped, and how she pulled back ever-so-slightly, it was evident that she was, for some reason, disappointed.

“Did you want to do it?”

The struck look on the cougar’s face would probably have been comical had its existance not been so heartwrenching. The insides of the large cat’s ears were flushed, and her fur lay flatter than usual. Normally, that would have been enough for Aretta to let her off the hook by offering her another question that would provide an easy out, but this time, doing so wouldn’t help the situation any.

Eventually, when her owner didn’t drop the issue, the cat inclined her head, slightly, everything about her body language indicating that she was ashamed to do even that much. Probably the fact that she had her own will in a matter that involved her owner was what was embarrassing her, rather than the specific nature of that matter.

“It felt very good,” the human girl said, slowly, smiling when that made the cougar’s ears perk up. “I’m not going to tell you to continue. But if you really want to, go ahead.”

She was surprised at Grace’s enthusiasm, which drove the cougar to lean over her when she’d barely finished speaking, rough tongue caressing the woman’s breast and teasing her nipple, making her gasp and clutch at the sheets under her. The man might just have been a dream, but her excitement at his ministrations hadn’t been, and quite a bit of that still lingered.

Grace purred in response, her hand running along her owner’s thigh to the knee, and then trailing her fingertips along the thin skin on the inside of it to Aretta’s still-wet sex. One of the human’s hands came to rest, lightly, on the back of the cat’s head, playing with her ear and rubbing it lightly between her fingers without really thinking about it.

It was at least as good as it had been in her dream, if not better, to feel Grace’s fingers between her thighs and the cougar’s tongue on her chest, and to know that this time, the slave did it out of her own, free will. It might be that she normally wouldn’t be in this situation — both because the cougar was a slave and she despised the way they were used and abused, and because the cat wasn’t really of Aretta’s preferred sex — but now that she was… She’d be telling a lie if she said it didn’t feel damned good.

It got better yet when the cougar shifted, gently nudging her legs further apart, and buried her muzzle between them. The rough texture of the cat’s tongue grabbed at her insides in a way that made her squirm from the intensity of the sensation, and the cool, smooth nose pressed against her clitoris vibrated as Grace purred. That purr only grew louder and more intense as Aretta scratched behind the cougar’s ears, even when she was caught off guard and accidentally clenched her hand around it.

Under the feline slave’s relentless assault, it wasn’t long before the young woman arched her back, crying out, waves of pleasure rolling over her. They grew more intense, to the point of being almost painful, as that rough tongue kept lapping up her juices. She whimpered, squirming, only managing to shift so that the cat licked straight across that sensitive bud of flesh, making her gasp for air as though she’d suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

Grace lifted her head, then, smiling up Aretta’s body at her owner, tail lazily twitching behind her. It was touching, and the most normal expression the human had seen on the cat’s face since she’d purchased the slave out of pity. Considering what she’d really wanted was to do a good deed, and maybe make a friend while she was at it, rather than obtain a servant who’d work for no pay beyond food that might not even qualify as table scraps, it warmed her heart.

“C’mere, Gracie,” she murmured, holding her arms out to embrace the cat. It took the cougar a few moments to figure out what was expected of her, but when she did, she practically melted into Aretta’s arms, purring happily and licking her own lips. “Thank you.”

“Grace is pleased that Mistress is pleased.” There was some true fondness in the tone of the cat’s voice, even if the words were still the same stilted constructions she’d used as long as Aretta had known her.

“I am,” the human affirmed, caressing one of the cougar’s ears. “Why won’t you call me Aretta? It is my name, you know, Gracie.”

For a moment, the slave stiffened, her ears flicking back. Then she seemed to decide that the words hadn’t been an admonishment, and she butted her head lightly against her owner’s chest. “Thank you, Miss Aretta.”

It would have to be good enough.

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