Page 36 of Hell's Kitten

I kind of wish we’d met over the summer. I know he has to work most days, but that’s the beauty of him living above the café. His commute is a matter of minutes, and I can always swing by and say hello when I’m coming and going between classes.

Since I started college, though, my schedule has been hectic in addition to the few short shifts I’m working for him. Plus, the Kittens have regular football and basketball games to attend. We’re also working toward the Snowdown competition in Chicago before Christmas that doesn’t just involve training but fundraising as well. I never stop. My head is spinning so much I find it hard to fall asleep at night.

Well, until Nim tires me out, that is.

He’s been quite firm about taking it slow in that department. We haven’t gone further than hand and blow jobs. And that’sfine.I am still having plenty of fun. I just worry sometimes he thinks I’m not ready when I am. If I have to prove that to him and earn his trust, that’s okay. I do like the idea that he’s in this for the long run.

In the meantime, he’s been playing some games with me. Not sexy games—not really. At first, I wasn’t sure. But he says I can do more than just wear my kitten stuff. That I can get into what he calls a ‘headspace’ as well. That was when he sat on the bed and produced a ball of yarn.

I felt self-conscious and silly to begin with as I knelt on the floor and watched him jerking the colorful thread around. But almost immediately his actual cats started stalking it, wiggling their butts before they pounced. Nim smiled and laughed with such delight at their antics it made me brave enough to try it as well. I wanted to make him feel like that, too.

When I tried my first wiggle and pounded, he cried out in happy surprise, calling me a good kitty. The more I played, the lighter I became. It was amazing.

Since then, we’ve had a couple of sessions with a bouncy ball and a laser pointer. I would have been worried that it was boring for him, but every time he gets so happy and animated seeing me play. It’s a lot to wrap my head around, but he genuinely seems to get as much of a kick out of it as I do.

Then there’s the grooming. Now thatissexy. He gets me to lie across his lap on the bed while he brushes my hair. Usually, I just wear a pair of soft shorts with my ears and paws. Because then he has this fine-toothed metal comb that he drags across my bare skin that I adore. It gives me shivers just thinking about it. By the time he’s done I’m always so blissed out and turned on that when he inevitably wraps his lips around my hard cock, I come within about thirty seconds before passing out.

He never minds. I always wake up later, all tucked up in bed, usually with him curled up beside me.

So, yeah, I might be craving a thorough pounding from my big strong man, but I can’t for one second claim I’m being neglected, and I wouldn’t want to. I guess I’m still just a bit insecure that what we’re doing is enough. That is probably insane because all I wanted from Parker was for him to dote on me. Now I have a partner who’s doing just that and I’m worried that I’m being selfish or that I’m not worth it.

Honestly, I eye roll at myself so hard sometimes.

I think it might be easier if I could muster up the courage to ask him what this is, officially. I never did that with Parker. I made assumptions, and that backfired spectacularly. I want to ask Nim if we’re exclusive. If I’m his boyfriend, not just his kitten. That’s such a private thing for us, after all. Would he want to be public with me like Parker never was?

The trouble is that words are so difficult for him. I feel like he needs to be in just the right frame of mind before I try and bring this up. Otherwise, he might clam up and run away, hiding his thoughts from me. But if the relationship has moved on further—if it’s stronger—that might make us both feel more mature.

I don’t know.

But that’s probably why I find myself detouring to the library after class on a whim one afternoon. It’s usually pretty quiet whenever I’ve been in there to check out books. Possibly because the librarian is such an intimidating woman that I’ve seen members of the football team jump into bushes in order to avoid her. Maybe I’m biased, since she generally has a black cat glued to her ankles wherever she goes, but her goth clothes and piercing stare don’t really scare me.

The thought of not being a good enough kitten for Nim when he’s given me so much makes me feel sick, however. So does the thought of him catching me doing any sort of research. I know he knows I’m inexperienced, but I don’t want him to actually know how clueless I am, you know? It’s embarrassing.

Hence why I’d rather find a secluded corner of the college library and see what I can learn by myself. I know Nim wants to go slowly as I’m only just discovering my inner kitten. But I want to surprise him.

It’s me who gets a shock, however, just as I’m approaching the library doors. I’d heard that there was a raccoon that lives on campus and is almost treated like a bit of a mascot or pet by a lot of the students. But until now, I’d only seen Clayton from afar.

When he runs in front of me with an honest-to-god box of cupcakes in his little paws, I almost trip over myself as I jump out of my skin. It’s just not something I’d been expecting to see as I crossed the courtyard.

As he disappears into the foliage, I look around. However, no one is chasing him, shaking their fist, and yelling “Thief!” Idecide that he’s obviously worked hard for it, so why shouldn’t he get to keep his prize? Good for him, I say.

Idly, I wonder if there are people out there who pet play as raccoons. There probably are. If people like being puppies, dragons, horses, and bunnies, why not raccoons? It would be pretty easy to get an adorable little eye mask to mimic the markings.

That brings me back to my task at hand. Scanning the desks once I’m inside, I see that there’s that same young Hispanic guy with glasses who always seems to be at the table by the fire escape. Sometimes he’s alone or sometimes he seems to be tutoring other students, which seems odd given his age, but whatever. I need privacy, so I move away from them and find a desk by the window. Unless someone comes right up to the glass, they won’t be able to see my screen.

Perfect.

I get my headphones out. It brings me a lot of joy, knowing that Nim loves the ears on them as much as I do. Putting them on, I feel calmer displaying a bit of myself on the outside. It doesn’t matter if no one realizes what it really means. I do and that’s enough. I put on a playlist I made that’s more synth wave and vibes than lyrics. I want the music to wash over me, not distract me.

Taking a few deep breaths, I rub the back of my hand against my cheek, letting my kitten come more to the surface as I start my internet search. I’ve been on a million sites regarding kitty aesthetics, but I never bothered to look too much into the psychology of it.

I open up a few tabs, typing in things like ‘What is kitten play?’ and ‘How to be a good kitten.’ I’m soon completely lost in various pages that give me a whole load of advice.

I’ve done a lot of head nuzzles and meows since we started playing, but the internet is suggesting I could be doing more interms of pawing to get what I want. Even biting. I don’t like the idea of trying to hurt Nim, but then I think about how the likes of Libra will often press her teeth against my arm or hand. But rather than bite, she’ll just rest her teeth there, looking up at me to ensure she’s caught my attention.

I could do that.

It’s crazy how my heart starts thumping in my chest the more I read. It gives me ideas like making a little cozy bed on the floor made of blankets I can knead. My nails aren’t great from how much I bite them, so maybe I could try using the real cats’ scratching posts. That sounds like it might hurt my fingertips, though, so I’m not sure.

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