It's time to get Lord Ardsworth on the same page

Even with magics in place to prevent the changes you made to the automata from being questioned as unusual, what you want - what you want to become, how you want to be treated - is a bit much to expect someone to agree to out of the blue. Once more you don't want to simply entrance him, but... well, massaging him, opening him up further to the idea, that would hardly be a bad approach.

The dream of his you entered before was the equivalent of a gentle brush whilst passing one in the hall compared to what you're doing now, which is a more... thorough, introduction. To start with, you simply appear, dressed and smiling, tails and ears clearly present, in the lord's dreams, in a background you leave to his subconscious. To your delight, this often proves to be the forest. You say little, and when he tries to approach you a constant distance is maintained. It takes under a week for him to start acquiring books and tales of your kind, under the suspicion that you're real. A bit of an adorable reaction for simply appearing in dreams, but a noble especially is allowed such fits of fancy from time to time.

You give him some time to gather information and start questioning what your purpose is before you continue.

In the Lord's dreams your kimono shortens, tightens so your breasts are pressed and exposed - and then you cross your arms underneath them for further emphasis. You allow him to draw closer, closer, closer still as you tease him with your body, flashing him sultry smiles, tracing your hands up thighs that you expose more and more, bending and moving your tails aside to allow him to trace the shape of your rear. You allow him to see the liquid running down the inside of your thighs before turning to look at him over your shoulder, gaze smoldering.

In the waking world, the Lord is taking more private times in the morning, and developing a propensity for cold showers besides.

Finally the day comes where you allow him to reach you. Your kimono, by this point, is a rather slutty thing, barely covering the area from your lower lips to your tits and tight enough to leave little to the imagination. As he approaches you at last you sink to the ground, knees spread wide and moving the fabric aside to leave yourself exposed. Your gaze is fixed upon his lower half, and more specifically the tent that now resides between his legs. He reaches toward you slowly, and as his hand cups your chin the last of the cloth upon your body fades away into nothingness, replaced merely by a collar around your neck. He lifts your chin, and his gaze of lust-filled awe is met by your grin of delirious pleasure.

And then you awake.

You remain lying on the floor for a time, tracing your nude body as you tease yourself. Your grin is firmly affixed to your face, however. Finally, everything is set. You need only present yourself to the Lord to take the position you seek. Your rightful position as a fuck-fox.