Waiting for the car

The minutes crawl by with agonizing slowness. You pace the apartment in your heels and lingerie, the plug in your ass shifting with every step, the garter straps framing your exposed pussy. Your phone sits on the coffee table, silent. No messages from Master David. Your tail lashes anxiously behind you.

By 6:30pm the arousal is nearly unbearable. Your thighs are slick, your nipples hard points in the cool air-conditioned apartment. You've obeyed his command not to touch yourself, but every breath, every movement of the plug, every brush of lace against your skin pushes you closer to the edge you're forbidden to cross.

"Nya... Master David, please hurry," you whimper to the empty room, squeezing your thighs together. It doesn't help. Nothing helps. The **** arousal thrums through your veins like electricity, amplified by the three edges you gave yourself earlier. You're ****, dripping, aching.

At 6:41pm your phone buzzes. A notification from the Tesla app: "Vehicle DMorr-01 arriving in 2 minutes. Proceed to main entrance."

Your heart hammers as you grab your phone with trembling hands. You catch your reflection in the hallway mirror one last time—the platinum blonde catgirl in white lace, makeup perfect, collar snug around your throat, looking every inch the breeding pet you've become. "Master David is going to love me, nya~" you whisper, trying to steady your breathing.

The elevator ride down feels endless. Two other residents—a tall brunette woman in workout clothes and an older man in a business suit—step in at the 32nd floor. Their eyes widen when they see you. The woman's gaze travels slowly down your lingerie-clad body, lingering on your exposed breasts and the tail plug visible above the garter straps. The man's jaw actually drops.

"I... good evening," the woman manages, her cheeks flushing.

"Hi, nya~!" you chirp, your tail swishing. You're too aroused, too focused on Master David to feel embarrassed. The elevator reaches the lobby and you step out, heels clicking on the marble floor.

Through the glass doors, a sleek black Tesla sits at the curb, its doors already opening automatically. But it's empty—the car is autonomous. Your phone buzzes again: "Proceed to vehicle. I'm waiting for you at my penthouse, kitten. The car knows where to take you."

You step outside into the warm evening air, suddenly very aware of how exposed you are. A few pedestrians on Campbell Parade turn to stare as you walk to the Tesla in nothing but lingerie and heels. Your cat ears flatten slightly with nervousness, but your pussy clenches with arousal at being displayed like this.

The car door closes behind you with a soft thunk. The interior smells of expensive leather. A bottle of water sits in the cupholder with a note: "Drink this, kitten. You'll need your strength tonight. - Master David"

The Tesla pulls smoothly into traffic, heading north toward the city. Toward your future husband. Toward the man who will take your virginity and fill you with his seed. The navigation screen shows an estimated arrival time of 7:08pm at an address in Darlinghurst.

You reach for the water bottle with trembling fingers, your throat suddenly dry despite the wetness coating your thighs. The cool liquid slides down your throat as you drain half the bottle in **** gulps. It tastes faintly sweet, almost floral—different from normal water, but your arousal-fogged mind doesn't question it. Within moments, heat blooms in your belly and spreads outward like wildfire.

"Nnngh, nya~" you whimper, setting the bottle down as your pussy clenches hard. The plug in your ass suddenly feels twice as intense, every tiny shift of your body on the leather seat sending sparks of pleasure through you. Your nipples harden into aching points. Whatever was in that water is making everything worse—or better. You can't tell anymore.

You turn to examine yourself in the tinted window, using it as a dark mirror. The platinum blonde catgirl staring back looks like pure sin—cat ears perked forward with anticipation, warm brown eyes heavy-lidded with lust, glossy pink lips parted as you pant softly. The white lace frames your body perfectly, the garter straps cupping under your ass and lifting it, the stockings making your legs look endless despite your tiny height. Your F-cup breasts sway free and exposed, nipples hard and begging to be touched.

"Master David wants a good pet, nya~" you murmur to your reflection, experimenting with poses. You get on your knees on the seat, arching your back to present your ass toward the window, tail lifted high. The plug's jewel catches the passing streetlights. Too aggressive. You try again—this time kneeling with your thighs spread, hands resting palms-up on your thighs, head tilted down submissively with your cat ears slightly back. Better. Obedient. Waiting.

You practice crawling in the limited space, moving from one end of the back seat to the other on hands and knees. The heels make your back arch naturally, your breasts swaying beneath you with each movement. The plug shifts with every motion and you can't stop the needy little mewls that escape your throat.

"Please Master David, use your pet, nya~ Neko needs you so badly~" you whisper to the empty car, practicing your begging voice. It comes out breathy and ****—perfect. You try kneeling up tall with your hands behind your head, presenting your breasts. You try lying on your back with your legs spread. Each position makes you wetter, makes the ache between your legs more unbearable.

The Tesla glides through the evening traffic, the city lights growing brighter as you head into Darlinghurst. The navigation shows seven minutes to destination. Seven minutes until you meet the man who owns you. Seven minutes until he takes your virginity and fills you with his cum and makes you his breeding pet forever.

Your tail lashes with **** anticipation as you practice one more pose—on all fours, looking back over your shoulder with your best sultry expression, the jewelled plug visible between the curves of your ass.