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Lowering her face further into the bowl, until her nose was almost touching the top of the milk, she opened her mouth and stuck her tongue all the way in, licking it into her mouth, the same way one lapped up a melting ice cream cone. It splashed in the bowl, which moved between her wrists and sprayed up, hitting her lashes and the tip of her nose. It was messy, and embarrassing, but it was much quicker.
"That’s a good kitty. Don't spill it, now."
Encouraged by his praise, she lapped faster, and the bowl jostled, this time a splash of milk landed on the floor beside her.
She couldn't keep herself from gasping, as she looked from the spilled drop of milk back to the bowl and wondered what she was supposed to do. What would he do? If she was a cat, she might just lick up the mess, and go back to drinking, but surely, he wouldnt make her do that. Drinking this way was bad enough, but to be made to lick from the floor would be too much.
Unsure of what to do, she made a sound of confusion to get his attention. It worked. She could feel his gaze on her as he looked from the bowl to the floor, and back to her.
"Leave it," he said, "I'll deal with it, and you, later."
With that settled, she had no choice but to finish what was left in the bowl. She drank more carefully now, licking the bottom layer of milk, her tongue touching the crystal. She was careful to get every last drop and clean the bowl, not wanting to risk whatever trouble he might dream up if she didn't. When the bowl was clean, she raised herself back to her all fours position and waited. Soon, his footsteps sounded on the floor as he made his way over to her.
"Good kitty. You drank it all. Are you hungry?"
She nodded, but he pointedly ignored her until she answered with a loud meow.
"For dinner, you have two choices, you can have oatmeal out of a bowl, just like you had the milk, or you can have tiny pieces of cut up steak, but you must eat out of my hand."
Eating out of his hand sounded horribly humbling and degrading, but there really wasn't a choice. She hated oatmeal. Using her hand like a paw, she reached up and nudged his hand with hers, making her choice known.
"Okay, kitten." He bent to wipe her face with a napkin and picked up the empty bowl. He also wiped up the small spill, assuaging her fears about being made to lick it off the floor. He walked away and when he returned a few minutes later, he was holding a bowl and a small stack of napkins. He set the bowl down and she could see that it was full of finely cut up pieces of steak and even some baked potato and broccoli. She couldn't believe that she was about to eat from his hand, but she was starving, and it looked delicious.
He used a fork to grab pieces from the bowl and placed them in his cupped hand, offering them to her as he knelt in front of her. "Here you are, kitten, dinner is served."
Cautiously, she dipped her head to his hand and picked up a bite of steak between her teeth, sitting back a bit as she chewed. It was tender and flavorful, but there wasn’t anywhere near enough sustenance in that one tiny bite to satisfy her. When she finished chewing, she went for another, this time opening her mouth to take several small pieces at once. He seemed pleased by this and patted her head as she chewed. They went on like this until the bowl was empty and her stomach was full.
"That's a good kitten. Do you feel better now, having eaten?"
For an answer she could only meow. He seemed to take it as an affirmative and smiled as he wiped her face with a wet napkin.
"You made a little mess, kitten, but Daddy will clean you up."
He did exactly that, and then stood and unleashed her before carrying away the bowl he had used to feed her. There were a few minutes filled only by the soft clatter as he cleaned up after dinner and rolled the food cart out into the hallway for the service subs to pick up on their next round. Then he was in front of her again.
"Now my naughty little kitten, what should the punishment be for spilt milk? I told you to be careful, didn't I?"
"Meow?"
He chuckled and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "Such pretty little noises you make, and I have wholly enjoyed them, but I suppose I can let you speak now. You'll still be my pretty kitty though." He reached over her and tugged lightly on the end of her tail. The plug shifted inside of her, and she whimpered. She had been so focused on eating and drinking without spilling again, she had nearly forgotten the tail was there.
"It's getting late kitten; it's almost bedtime. But first, there is a punishment to attend to, and then if you take your punishment like a good girl, maybe a reward. Let’s see, what would the appropriate punishment be for spilt milk?"
He asked the question in a way that told her he already knew the answer, and her bottom clenched as she waited.
"Stand up."
Surprised, she did so, careful not to look at him. It wasn't an issue because as soon as she was on her feet, he moved. She was standing near the post he had kept her tied to, and before she knew what was happening, her feet were bound together, then her wrists were tied behind her. Careful of her balance, he tied her around the waist with a long, wide piece of silk, securing her to the bedpost. Standing bound in front of him, she bit her lower lip nervously. Something told her she wasn’t getting a spanking.
She could hear him rustling around in the closet again, the same sounds as before. The door creaked and the drawers squeaked as they slid open, and then came the rustle of paper and ripping of plastic.
He was in her line of sight now. From where she was bound, if she looked up she would have a perfect view of him and be able to see what he was doing and what he was holding, but she knew better than to try. Besides, she didn't want to. Not being allowed to look at him was inconvenient, but it also allowed her to stay in her head, to submit fully, and to let go of the fact that the very man who was teasing and torturing her, making her hurt so good, and tying her into a pile of submissive goo, was the very man she was trying not to fall for.
Finally, he was in front of her again. "Look up. Not at me, at the ceiling."
Without questioning, she did as she was told, craning her neck upward to stare at the beamed ceiling, counting the knots in the wood while she waited to see what he would do to her next.
"I think," he mused, as he cupped her breast in his hand, teasing the nipple with the pad of his thumb, “that when it comes to a naughty kitten spilling her milk, the only appropriate punishment there can be is nipple torture."
She whimpered as she thought of the fantasies she’d had while staring in the bathroom mirror. Be careful what you wish for.
