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He squirted the lube onto the plug, she could hear him doing it, and then stepped behind her, kneeling so that he was down on her level, and unceremoniously inserted it. The metal plug felt much different from the silicone one he had used all week long. There was less give, and the metal was cold as it went in, but the familiar fullness of the plug inside her was comforting; something she welcomed.
When he stepped away, the tail brushed against her legs and tickled the back of her thighs, and she blushed picturing how silly she must look with a tail hanging from her ass. There was no forgetting it was there, either, with it tickling her with every tiny move she made.
There was nothing more to do but sit and wait, feeling slightly humiliated as she waited for his next command. The silence in the room was deafening and the seconds ticked by slowly. Finally, there was a knock at the door. Room service had arrived.
He swung the door wide open, and she heard the tell-tale click of Mary Janes against the wooden floor. Great. One of her fellow service subs was delivering dinner. She couldn't even look up to see who it was. She just had to sit there, naked and on full display, wearing a collar and a tail, chained to a bed, and remind herself that they saw things like this all the time. It was a daily occurence to see a submissive or a Little in a compromising or humiliating position. This was the Ranch, for goodness’ sake. But there was no gasp or giggle or any clue that she had been recognized. In a way, she’d known there wouldn’t be. They were trained not to react.
Finally, they spoke, and she recognised the voice of another service sub from her floor, Mia.
Of all the service subs, Mia was the one she was closest to, and worked alongside most often. She wasn't sure if that made this situation better or worse.
"Here is your dinner, Sir, with everything else you requested. Will there be anything more?"
"No, I think that's everything. Thank you so much." Mia’s footsteps seemed louder as she exited, and when the door creaked closed, Emily realized she had been holding her breath.
Master Cole, as it was easier to think of him that way than as Daddy sometimes, shuffled around, messing with the food that had been delivered. Her stomach growled as delicious smells wafted into the air between them, and she wondered again how she would be allowed to eat.
That question was answered when, as promised, he set down a crystal bowl in front of her, full of milk.
"Drink your milk while I eat my dinner, and then I shall feed you yours."
"Yes, Daddy."
She was in shock when the honorific earned her a sharp slap to her bottom, pushing the plug more tightly inside of her.
"Kitties don't speak," he admonished, as he crossed the room to sit at the table and began to eat his dinner. "What do kitties say?"
"Um… meow?"
He scoffed. "Without the um, and with less human inflection next time."
She couldn't help it. Her head jerked up to stare at him as she blinked in shock. Surely, he didn’t mean for her to actually meow, did he?
Their eyes met, and his darkened. "Naughty kitten, breaking the rules again so soon."
He stood, and she saw that he had something in his hand. A spray bottle. She was still trying to figure that out, when a stream of misted cold water hit her in the face, just below her eyes.
Shocked, she sputtered. "Hey!"
Without a word, he sprayed her again. "That was your warning, pet. You are my kitten and you will behave as such. And don’t think you're getting away with looking at me, either. I'll deal with that after we both have supper. Now, drink your milk, pet. Lap it up like a good little kitty and remember what I said earlier.” Still holding her gaze, he winked.
Her stomach dropped to her knees and she was instantly aroused. This time there was no hesitation. She was his pretty kitty and she longed to please him.
"Meow," she sang.
"That's a good kitty." He patted the top of her head and then moved across the room once more, sitting at the table to eat his dinner. She wondered what he had ordered, but she knew better than to look up again, and she had been told to drink her milk.
With the crystal bowl in front of her, filled about halfway with only an inch of milk, she tentatively lowered her head. The bowl was wide, designed for a human to drink out of it, rather than a real animal, but it was still awkward as fuck.
She had to push her whole body down, balancing herself on her forearms, and hold the bowl still between her wrists. She knew instinctively better than to use her hands in any way as she dipped her head toward the bowl. When she was close enough, she stuck her tongue out, dipping it into the cool liquid, getting only a few drops that she pulled into her mouth.
The milk here at the Ranch was always fresh and sweet, but it wasn't her beverage of choice. She knew she had to drink it all though, so she repeated the action again, dipping her tongue into the milk.
Across the room, he laughed at her. "Gonna take you all night to drink it up that way, pet, and we won't have time for anything else. That is how a human pretending to be a cat drinks milk. But you are my pretty kitty, and I know you want me to touch your pretty kitty before we go to bed tonight. So c'mon, get in there and drink it up."
The sound that came from her was a mewl of protest. Every time she thought that this couldn't possibly be more humiliating, he proved her wrong, and showed her just how humiliating it could be.
And just like this milk she was about to drink, she lapped it up.
