Yes!

Feeling Eva’s fingers toy with the knot you mentally prepared yourself for whatever hedonistic dystopia lay on the other side of the black fabric. Suddenly the blindfold was ripped away and your eyes winced, sucker-punched by the bright pink light bathing the room.

Squinting through the burning you saw no orgy.

*Visible mild disappointment*

Instead you found yourself in some Japanese BDSM love hotel-style room.

*Visible mild hope*

Two large Ukiyo-e murals flanked your sides, one “Tako to Ama”

Because what kind of fetish dungeon is complete without a depiction of an octopus performing cunnilingus.

And the other “Takiyasha the Witch and the Skeleton Spectre.”

Hundred-foot tall skeleton, weird choice but okay.

Beside them a pair of glass cabinets containing the usual assortment of leather, whips and chains…oh my.

All meticulously organized and hopefully sanitized like a Hollywood **** scene.

And of course there was also the bed, a large king sized mattress complete with Shoji headboard, squirt-proof sheets and obligatory fuzzy handcuffs.

Overall apart from the art, the room read like a bad cliché. The only adornment you hadn’t quite worked out was the rails and chains dangling from the ceiling. The BDSM-equivalent of a “Live, Laugh, Love” sign perhaps?

Chuckling to yourself over the “clearly seen fifty shades of grey too many times” décor, you turned to Eva to see if she could give you an explanation on the aesthetic choice.

Then you saw it…well more precisely her.

A half-naked woman mid-orgasm decked-out in Nekomimi gear dangling from the ceiling by a pair of leather cuffs.

Eyes glued to the quivering woman, you faded in and out of Eva’s words as she carried on a conversation with herself.

“…and it’s really popular amongst the suburban housewives who come in for some reason.”

Sitting on the woman’s head was a pair of ruddy-orange tabby ears. Like yourself, she had a blindfold tightly wrapped over her eyes. Around her neck a lace choker with a little cat-bell.

“…In my opinion it’s a bit too on the nose. But Renee claims it’s been quite profitable.”

Her top a simple black bandeau trimmed in white with a cleavage cut-out in the shape of a cat-head. On both thighs were long black stockings ornamented with bright pink cat pads on the feet and a pair of inquisitive-looking cat faces just above the hem-line.

“…I mean if that’s my intention, I want a bit of mystery. Fear of the unknown. Make them squirm.”

Squirm she did.

Barely covering her modesty were a pair of black panties, if you could even call them that given the large cut-out running from ass-crack to clit. And while the panties lacked any kitty-flourishes like her other garments, the long orange striped tail jutting from her rear easily filled the missing quota.

“I hope you like the outfit Joseph, Renee said it’s very popular amongst our younger male cliental.”

Turning your focus away from the cat-girl for the first time in a while, you noticed Renee shoot you a faint smile. Tucked away in the corner sitting on a pillow she seemed barely even phased by the quivering pussy hanging a few feet away.

“Baby Joey, you’ll have plenty of time to ogle your gift later. Right now we should focus on celebrating!”

Eva’s arm clutched yours again and pulled you closer to the cat-girl.

Tucking her legs and smoothing her burgundy dress, Eva sat down at a small Japanese-style table literal inches away. Doing the same, you tried to heed Eva’s words and concentrate on her while she uncorked a bottle of something on the table. But despite your best effort, an irritating buzzing sound prevente…oh, oh never mind.

Loosening the cage Eva’s hands twisted the bottle and cork separating them with a soft pop and not a single spilled drop of Champagne. Seeing the billows of mist and smelling the crisp ****, you patiently waited for her to pour a glass.

However that moment never arrived.

Instead Eva tenderly placed a hand on the woman’s inner thigh and delicately tip-tapping issued a simple command.

“Darling, spread please.”

The woman obeyed, gaping her legs slightly.

Eva flashed you her signature smirk.

Then brought one of the flukes to the outer lips of the woman’s vulva. Twirling the thin stem, she rimmed the rolled edge of the glass. Slowly like a fine wine, the fluke developed church windows as the fluid dribbled down the sides to the bottom of the glass.

Suddenly the many nights you told Savvy you could literally drink her juices came back to haunt you as Eva brought the fluke back to the table, drizzled in the Champagne and softly slid the chalice of secretions to you.