Margot opened her eyes and stretched. She raised her head and looked around. Through the bars of her cage, she could see hundreds of people milling around. They were here to see her, she knew, and she reveled in that. People kept streaming past her cage and looking in, wiggling a finger to get her attention, oohing and aahing. They all thought her gorgeous. Rightly so. Her owner had brushed and preened her to perfection.
Margot batted at her toy mouse, lounged on her leopard-print cushion, and waited.
Ah, there stood her handler. Margot pawed the cage to get his attention. He approached the cage, but for some reason, she couldn't see his face clearly. It seemed like shadow covered it completely, moving when he moved.
Margot meowed in question as her owner opened her cage. She stood and arched her back in a wonderful stretch, trying to guide his fingers to the perfect spot along her spine. She dug her claws into the cushion and kneaded as he scratched her right where she wanted. Margot knew she would show next, and that made her happy.
“There's my girl,” she heard. It seemed as if it came from many miles away, but Margot knew it was her owner who spoke to her.
Soon she felt his full hands on her, one along her back, one underneath her as he lifted her out of the cage. He held her against his chest, supporting her, stroking her. Margot purred, the vibration of her own body sparking a simmering need deep within. She nuzzled his shoulder with her head, enjoying the rough feel of his woven shirt under the thin fur of her forehead. Then she noticed the toy sticking out of his shirt pocket. Sparkling ribbons affixed to a stick. She twisted her body to get a good swipe at it.
Her owner tsk-tsked and held her more tightly. “Bad kitty,” he said.
“It's time,” he said, his voice still distant and deep. He carried her through the crowd, his grip on her tight to prevent Margot's temptation to investigate all the amazing smells and sights in the giant room. They arrived at another set of cages, and her handler placed Margot carefully inside one. He removed a comb from his pants pocket and quickly ran it through her sleek fur.
“Good luck,” he said, closing the cage door.
Margot stretched again and looked around. This cage proved less richly attired than her own, and the cats in the cages to her right and left sat much too close. She hissed at one that looked askance at her, and then rested her head on her paws to watch the goings-on at the table in front. There, a man handled each cat, talking about her and showing her off to the crowd.
Soon enough, her turn came. The man opened her cage and took her out.
He laid her out on the show table, and suddenly, as in the way of dreams--for this was a dream, wasn't it?--Margot was herself: human again, naked, and perched on top of the table. She gazed out at the crowd. Heat filled her. Everyone watched her, and she loved being the center of attention.
She glanced at the judge and realized now he wore leather pants and nothing else and held a riding crop instead of a cat toy. Still, he spoke about her as he would a cat. Margot giggled inwardly but didn't let it show. She liked the idea of being a cat: sleek, athletic, smooth.
“Here's a beautiful specimen. Now remember, as with any entry, we are looking for several things. Condition, beauty, personality, and show presence. And boy, she sure has all of this, doesn't she?”
The judge ran his hand down her thigh, over her knee, and down her calf. Margot sighed at the contact. He turned her on the table to face the audience and ever so gently pulled her legs apart so the audience had a full view of her.
The heat within Margot intensified. Would the audience approve? She could feel the blush in her cheeks bloom down across her chest. She desperately wanted them to like her most of all.
“First, let's look at condition. Limbs are well toned; obviously her owner takes care of her. Her skin is creamy and unmarred, perfect for her breed, but with a nice blush to show us she is excited. Her breasts are high and firm, and her pussy... Well, it looks just beautiful, doesn't it?”
Margot relished the praise.
“And let's move on to beauty, then, shall we?” The judge used the tip of his riding crop to tilt Margot's chin up. “Symmetry of features is perfect, eyes are clear and alert, and her coat is long and shiny. Again, an excellent example of the breed.”
The judge then guided Margot to lie down on the table. Her insides quivered. What would he do to her? She thought of all kinds of naughty things the audience would enjoy.
“Now, let's explore the most subjective categories: personality and playfulness.” The judge grinned, ear to ear, looking more like the Cheshire cat, though Margot played the cat in her dream. “So far, she has been pretty demure. I wonder if we can get her to show off a little for us.”
The judge set down his riding crop on a side table and took up something else. A cat-o'-nine-tails. Margot sucked in her breath as she watched him. That would
be good. She always liked a little pain with her exposure. He approached her, running his fingers through the strands of the short whip.
He brought it down gently across her stomach, then her thighs. Margot quivered and sighed.
“She likes this, evidently,” the handler said. “Let's try something else.
He turned away again and came back with a vibrator, huge and black. He switched it on, and the humming of it seemed to fill the entire auditorium. No one in the audience spoke or breathed or made any sound. The judge stalked to the table.
“She won't need lube, will she?” he said. He brushed the vibrator against her thighs. Margot instinctively spread her legs. The judge ran it through her folds first, slickening it with her freely flowing juices. She moaned as the vibrations hit her clitoris.
Then, quickly and smoothly, the judge insinuated the vibrator into her wet cunt. He slipped it in and out, and Margot felt the tension gathering at her core. The vibrator affected every part of her, as if a thousand vibrators surrounded her rather than just the one vibrator inside her. Her body sang in response, and ringing filled her ears. She arched up off the table, seeking the vibrator, wanting it to fill her.
“Come, my pretty kitty,” the judge whispered in her ear. “Come!”
* * *
Margot woke drenched in sweat. The television was still on, showing a program about humpback whales singing to their mates. She turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling, her heart beating heavily. She'd never come so hard in a dream before. Already the details began to grow hazy, but she remembered the judge at a table and the audience, and all the attention on her...
She ran her hands over her eyes to wipe away the sleep, then brushed her hair from her sticky face. She felt herself between her legs. Wet. Oh God, so wet. She nearly blushed, despite the fact that no one could see it.
The dream would not leave Margot; though she couldn't replay it like a movie, glimpses of things and the feelings
of it stayed with her. She rose from her bed and crossed to the bathroom. She looked at the wall clock as she passed. It read 1:00 p.m. She had plenty of time to get ready.
Definitely start with a cold shower, Margot thought. Only, once she got in the shower, the dream still had her hot. She couldn't just soap herself and be done with it. She found her fingers lingering over the already swollen lips of her sex, her already engorged clit.
Her lust overcame her, and Margot had to sit down in the shower as she drove the fingers of her right hand into her cunt and used the index finger of her left hand to work her clit. The vague memories of the dream, of that faraway voice of her owner, of the judge examining her in front of the audience, drove her on. With the cold water of the shower splashing down on her, she came again, nearly as hard as she had in the dream.
She sat down hard in the claw-foot tub, the water still coursing down over her. She had to take a minute to catch her breath. While she enjoyed pleasuring herself, it wasn't the same as having a man, and now the sweetness of it faded, leaving a little regret in its place.
After her shower, she grabbed her laptop and nestled in her bed. Brad and Brad were nice enough to keep their wireless network in the main house open for her, so she logged on and started researching cat shows. She looked, then, at a few pony-play sites. One of them had a link to a kitty-play adult site. Margot had thought herself pretty savvy when it came to the underground world of fetishists and BDSM, but she'd never even thought to look for kitten play. And without last night's dream, she never would have known it could turn her on.
Something started tickling her in the corner of her mind as she ran through page after page on Google image search of Japanese catgirl drawings. An idea coalesced. She considered her developing plan a stroke of genius. Not only would she get off, but she could make a scene of it. No more getting paid by the play-party organizers; she'd do one herself, completely cat themed...
She sent a few e-mails to friends in the scene who'd want in on the project, then dressed for work. She couldn't wait to get started on her plans.