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The Feline's Maids

Part 1

for Catsithx

by Draconicon

Inheriting a mansion was normally considered a gift, but there were caveats to one's appreciation of said gifts. One must have a mind for organization, for the keeping in order things that were wont to fall out of it, for ensuring that the dust did not settle and the house become unlivable. One needed to have a state of mind that would ensure that the whole of the structure would be maintained regardless of the use that it was put to, that the house would maintain its value through maintenance and care, and that the greatness of the ancient house would not fade into obscurity.

Being a distant relative that had inherited a house that he had never expected to, Simon had none of these things. However, he had a great deal of money, and knew that would go a long way towards solving it.

The cat struck an odd figure as he sat in the corner of the entry room, taking advantage of the light streaming through the windows to read over the pamphlets that he'd had sent to him. While he had the groomed fur of a common salon, his clothes were rich, fresh-pressed and new. Luscious greens and a glittering black complimented his fur, though with the way that he pulled at the shirt collar, one could tell that he was not used to it just yet. The fit was just a trifle tight, particularly in the crotch, and he was constantly adjusting himself.

One would be forgiven for assuming him little more than a poser with someone else's wealth, for one would be half-right. He was still adjusting to the fact that he had status, that he had stature that had to be preserved, and that wealth, those resources, would have to be protected.

Knock, knock.

Simon looked up from the pamphlets, the black-furred feline cocking his head to the side. Visitors had been rare since he'd stripped himself of the majority of friends that suddenly wanted to call in all kinds of favors now that he had an eight-figure inheritance that was growing by the day. The door to door salesmen had stopped after that, chased off when they realized that he wasn't interested in buying random crap just because he could. The ministers had stopped after that, and the missionaries and charities after that.

As a matter of fact, he hadn't had someone knocking on his door for nearly a week, now. He was surprised that anyone was willing to give it a try any longer.

Still, it wouldn't do to leave them standing at the door. He was supposed to be a rich man, now, someone that had status. If it was someone on his level - or someone that he actually enjoyed the company of - it would at least offer him a distraction from all his new responsibilities. Getting to his feet, he crossed the short passage to the front door and opened it.

"...Well, speak of the Devil," Simon said.

"Heh, you know that joke was old in high school, Simon." The wolf on the other side, wearing an old yellow-red jacket with his name - Devil - sewed into the chest, said. "Mind if I come in?"

"Come right in."

The wolf nodded, bobbing his head slightly as he stepped through the open door. His head was already panning left and right, and Kain could already imagine the questions, thoughts, and curiosities that were going through Devil's head.

Which question would the wolf ask first, he wondered? Something about the house in general? Something about the cat's new money? A favor that he needed?

Simon had every reason to expect that. Devil had never been a subtle man, and even when they had been closer friends in high school, before the inevitable drift that graduation created, Devil had been one of those to push his luck. He was always looking for some sort of mischief, some kind of boundary to push. If it wasn't getting some cheerleader to come behind the bleachers and give him a blowjob, it was flirting with the teachers and getting a scandal going that rippled through the entire school system.

But it was never boring. Devil picked the reputation that he wanted and went for it, and nobody could ever say that he wasn't true to himself.

As Simon waited for the question, he shut the door, locking it. He sat down with his pamphlets as Devil turned left and right, looking over the different bits and bobs of the entry hall. The thick wood paneling was rich, though covered in dust, and the carpets were likewise. The rugs that ran towards the main hall just up the way were dusty, faded from a lack of cleaning, and the statues and busts needed attention like nothing else.

Simon was braced for judgment. He was not ready for the mischievous smile.

"So, where's your Maid?" Devil asked.

"I'm still looking for one. The maid services don't come cheap, you know."

"Don't tell me that you're being a penny-pincher after getting millions."

"I want to keep it, you know. Besides, there's plenty of maids out there, and I don't want to pick the wrong one."

"Who wants a maid, these days? I mean Maids."

"...What's the difference?" Simon asked.

"You kidding? Where've you been, under a rock?"

"Under an igloo, more accurately," Simon admitted.

"...You and your ice." Devil shook his head.

It wasn't entirely wrong, either. Simon had taken a small vacation from the rest of the world after graduation, heading up to Alaska for some time to himself. It was something that had been meant as a meditative retreat, but it had ended up being more of a vacation in the wilderness. He'd liked it up there, but had found that he didn't really do well with isolation in the long term. He started getting lonely, and that meant that he started getting very odd ideas about what he wanted, what he needed, and what kind of things were acceptable.

He was just thankful that the air stewardess had been willing to let those harassment charges slide on the flight back. He honestly hadn't known what had come over him at the time.

Devil sat down on a lush, if dusty, chair across from the cat, folding his hands over his lap.

"I mean a Maid. You've heard of those, haven't you? The Maids, and the Butlers?"

"I'm guessing that we're not just talking about the servants here."

"Well...kind of," Devil admitted. "But they're a very special kind. Something that only someone of some status can afford. And trust me, if you want to be like the other people with status, you're going to want one. And fast."

"...Tell me more."

"Heh. Well, first, let's get rid of all this crap."

Devil swept the pamphlets out of the way, reaching into his jacket.

"I came prepared, you see."

"What are you, some salesman for them?"

"Hardly. I just think that you need someone better than you have."

"I have nobody."

"And that's why you need someone. And someone with fucking standards, man. Do you really plan to sit on all this money and do nothing with it for the rest of your life?"

"...It's an option."

"A bad one. Here. Look at this."

Rather than a pamphlet, Devil pulled a booklet out. The red wolf smiled as he offered it over, nodding down at it.

"I'd start on page six, knowing your tastes."

"I'll start at the table of contents, thanks," Simon muttered.

"Suit yourself."

As the dark-suited, red-furred wolf sat down, Simon pulled the booklet to his lap and flipped it open. The first page or two had a reference to the Royal Academy of Maids, something about the long and prestigious line of good service that they offered, but he skimmed that and went to the table of contents. He expected little more than a handful of different topics, but the small print surprised him. There were a total of a dozen different types of Maids available, from simple maids that were meant for cleaning, some that were trained as drivers, and -

His eyebrows almost jumped off his head. In the background, he could hear Devil chuckling, but he could scarcely lift his eyes from the page.

Of course, such a thing was to be expected from someone that didn't know of the difference between a maid and a Maid, but Simon was to receive quite the education. He turned the page shakily, turning the pages again and again until he reached the basic definition of what separated the two. In elegant script, the booklet described it as thus:

"A maid may be found in any locale. For certain, merely sliding an individual into the proper attire may allow one to claim the meager title of maid, for they are untrained, uncertified, little more than those that are willing to do the labor of the house for pay. They are cheap, and hardly indicative of anything beyond the leisure that their employer wishes to pursue.

"A Maid, however, is a sign of success, for the purchase of a Maid and their services, their education, and their skills is beyond the reach of most that walk this world. A Maid is a life-altering companion, one that will see to it that their employer and owner may never lack for anything in this world. A Maid, simply put, is everything.

"Within this book, you will find what the Royal Academy of Maids has to offer those of means. Peruse our categories and choose that which fits the lifestyle to which you are accustomed, and make contact. We will see to it that you are fitted with a maid that gives you precisely what you need."

The idea of there being such a difference between maids and Maids still didn't make sense, but the table of contents had made it clear that the Academy had a different idea, and that they were training these...people...to do more than merely clean. There were those that were trained as bodyguards, as cleaners, as servants, as managers...and as 'companions.'

Looking up, he saw Devil watching him, and he knew what the other man was thinking. Simon cleared his throat, closing the booklet.

"I...would peruse this in privacy."

"Heh, embarrassed?"

"I believe that this is a matter for me."

"I think that you want to jerk off to this."

"Do you mind?!"

"Not really. Whip it out."

"..."

"Man, come on. I'm fucking with ya there." Devil chuckled, the red wolf getting to his feet. "But sure, I'll give you some privacy. Have some fun with the book, but make sure that you call them. It'll make your life easier...and I'll be checking in on you later."

"...Why did you bring me this?"

"Because you're never gonna do something like this for yourself. And there's nothing here that a regular maid could handle. Trust me..." Devil looked around the entry hall, shaking his head. "I know."

"..."

"I'll give ya a call tomorrow, eh?"

"...Sure."

Devil walked out, and after making sure that the door was properly locked again, Simon sat down and went back to perusing the book.

The time that he had spent in Alaska had made him more aware than ever before of the sorts of things that he might want from a partner, things that would have made it rather hard for him to enjoy a normal person, someone that was at his level. The very idea of going out on dates and trying to find someone that would go along with his...desires...at this point had left him as more of a shut-in, someone that was more willing to stay at home and just indulge himself in fantasy. The money had been good for that, and it gave him a reason to be suspicious of people beyond just not wanting to be laughed at or create another faux pas like on the trip home.

Being alone for too long made him all too aware of the selfishness of cats, and just how easily he could fall into that whole 'need to pounce' thing, where he could end up hunting and chasing tail just for the sake of having it, just for the chance to enjoy himself without needing the other to be as involved. There was something...enticing, he supposed, about being that man with means to just take what he wanted and let the world sort it out.

That had been nothing but a fantasy, something that he'd assumed he'd have to sort out with a copious amount of prostitutes rather than anything normal, but if the Maids were as good as he was assuming they were...

He flipped through to page six, where they started describing the different types of Maids. He scrolled down to the part about the erotic servants, his eyes widening as he read the description.

"Maids of the Body are meant for the pleasures of their owners. The master of the house will have full discretion over how he will use those that have been trained as Maids of the Body, and the Maids of the Body are trained to survive anything that the master wishes of them. The contract so invoked will allow the master to do as he wills to them, and they will acquiesce to his pleasure.

"Do not hold back should you buy a Maid of the Body. They will be able to maintain themselves through anything. They are sturdy, strong, though not above embarrassment. Be of good heart. They would not be trained for this if they did not want it. They are here for your pleasure. Take them, and enjoy."

Simon's fingers were shaking as he read that. It sounded far too good to be true, almost as if he was buying a slave to tend to his lusts at the drop of a hat, just one that was dressed up and labeled as a Maid to make it sound better to society. Was that the case? Was this Academy just training slaves and selling to those that had the money to make it look respectable? Or was it something else?

His cock throbbed between his legs, pressing against the front of his pants and begging for attention. The very idea of having someone like that would have meant that, right now, he could have walked up behind them and just slid inside them, used them without even thinking about it.

The fantasy was strong, stronger than his reality and the morals that he had been told were right. If this was common among the rich, if the Maids were really part and parcel to status...

Simon made his decision. He flicked through to the 'current listings' at the back of the booklet, made sure that they were all up to date, and began scrolling through his options.

There were a great deal of possibilities, to the point that he was amazed that the booklet actually had so many. He had expected most of it to be information on prices, on how to train the Maids and take care of them, but it seemed that the whole thing was more about putting the product out rather than maintaining it.

But then again, they did claim that the Maids could maintain themselves, that they were tough enough to take anything that was thrown at them and keep on going. He wondered how truthful that was, and he wondered just how far he would be able to press his luck.

The thought kept his cock very, very hard.

There were dozens of Maids of the Body, and while they only had a face-pic for most of them, he was surprised just how much detail the text got across. In short order, he was panting, shivering, one hand between his legs adjusting himself as he imagined what he'd do to them.

Then, he found one that really surprised him.

A dragon, not a dragoness, was on offer as a Maid of the Body. He double-checked the description, but there was no mistake there. This was very much a male in a very feminine occupation, one that was offering himself up as a Maid of the Body. He had to know that he would be getting fucked on the regular, that he would be pushed and humiliated and used hard, but here he was, offering himself up - ostensibly in a dress - for whoever was going to buy him.

Simon had no interest in males, normally. They were not that enjoyable, not that sensual, and he preferred the curves and softness of females. But there was something about the idea of a smooth dragon in a dress, someone that had been trained to take cock and be of use, that appealed to him in an oddly primal way.

So, he reached for his phone...

A week passed, and he almost wondered if he had been scammed. He wanted to call Devil and find out if this was some joke, but he was afraid that the red wolf would laugh at him. He wanted to call the police, but was afraid that they'd see him as the inexperienced idiot that he felt like, and would not help him.

But that week ended with a ding-dong at the door, and he was once more shocked out of his reading and brought to the front door to see who it was.

It was the very dragon that he had ordered, dressed up in the black and white cloth of a Maid. A simple gold band around the neckline of the dress set it aside from the standard maid outfit, as well as a look in the dragon's eye. Nothing definitive, but a sort of confidence that maids often missed.

Simon couldn't help but stare, and the dragon couldn't seem to help but allow himself to be displayed. That skirt was so short that he was sure that he should be seeing a hanging sac if there was one to be hanging down, or a shaft if there was one to be seen. Yet, there was neither, just the very top of thighs so light and blue that they seemed to be painted of the same hue as a summer sky. They were too slender for male thighs, but just a little thicker than feminine ones, leading up to hips that looked like they were built for grabbing and breeding.

"...Turn," Simon whispered.

The dragon obliged, bowing his head and doing so. As he did, the high heels he wore clicked against the stone porch, and his ass cheeks pushed back that little bit more, grabbing the cat's attention and pulling his shaft up in his pants, making him harder and stiffer by the second. By the time that the sky-blue dragon had turned his back, showing off a pair of nearly-white wings and a tail patterned in darker blue diamond shapes, Simon had already decided to accept this one, to keep and rut and use.

The Maid turned all the way around, in the process of pulling on a pair of long white gloves, leaning down and pulling his stockings back up to his thighs and locking them in place. He smiled, not quite submissively, but with that sort of acknowledgement of authority that the cat had.

"May I come in, master?"

"...You may," the cat said, his breath still caught in his throat.

The dragon moved with confidence, but with submission inherent in every step. There was this downcast head, yes, but he still moved with purpose, with direction. He swayed his hips, lifted his tail just enough to bring that tiny little skirt a bit higher. Simon knew that this had to be intentional, and indeed, it was. There was not a Maid of the Body out there that did not live to tease, to bring pleasure and desire to their master. They were trained with the goal of bringing utter bliss to the life of those that bought them, and this dragon was no different.

The dragon looked down the hallway, and then back.

"I have tools in my bag outside. Shall I get started on restoring your house, master?"

"...Do so," Simon said when he found the air to speak.

"Thank you, master."

"Your name."

"What, master?"

"Do you have a name?" Simon asked.

"Dylin, master."

"Dylin...thank you."

"You are most welcome, master."

"...Don't you need to know mine?" the cat asked as the Maid stepped through the door again.

"Only if you wish to share it, master. You own me; master is sufficient, yes?"

"...Yes, I think it is."

Simon managed to keep control of himself for an admirable amount of time, if he did say so himself. He did not pounce on the crossdressing dragon when Dylin made his way down the main halls, nor did he neglect his own care when he went to make himself some food. He even went through the trouble to make tea for the new Maid, offering it to his new...

What did he even call it? Possession? Property? It was hard to tell what the term would be for someone that had been hired like this and considered themselves to be owned. Was there a good term for that without it implying some sort of slavery rather than employment?

Did he want it to be something different, though? Simon had tried the word to see how he felt - the word, slave - and he had felt his cock throb all the harder. The idea of having that sort of power over someone, of having a Maid that would be willing to do whatever he wanted, was just too much to bear. He needed to enjoy it, and soon.

But he held off. He held off until Dylin had gone through the task of cleaning the long connecting corridor that joined up the entry hall, the main hall, the lower bedrooms and the kitchen. He waited until the dragon was done making dinner and they had shared a meal. He waited, waited until the sun had gone down and the halls were dark and the lights that were left were imitations of candle-lights, throwing shadows up and down the corridors and shining reflective lights off the Maid's scales, enhancing her curves in the darkness.

And then, it was as if he lost control. The black and white cat walked up behind the dragon, sliding a hand under his skirt and finding a good place to grip. Right along that ass, feeling the heft and curve of it, feeling the soft, feminine plushness. Dylin gasped, arching his back, even as his tail went up and off to the side.

"Master. I'm working."

"You can keep working. I have a different task for you."

"That isn't - you can't do this."

Can't? But the book -

The book had said to do what he wanted, he remembered. That the Maids of the Body were trained to take it, enjoy it, endure it, no matter what he did. They were supposed to want this...

But what if this was something that Dylin had been trained to do? What if this 'defiance' was part of the act?

If it was...then Simon couldn't help but feel more aroused than ever. He groaned, then growled as he unzipped himself, pulling those plush cheeks against his groin. His cock was already hard, throbbing, and he didn't hesitate to find a way to slip it between those cheeks. Dylin gasped, his eyes wide, but despite the species difference, the dragon didn't push him back. The most he did was wiggle forward, trying to 'escape', but the feline's instincts pulled the dragon back, grinding them together once more, keeping them pressed tightly to one another.

"Don't you dare..."

"M-master, I am not - please, let me - ah!"

The black cat had managed to reach around his Maid, reaching under that skirt and finding the dragon's slit. It was already opening up, the cock inside spilling out. There was no denying that the dragon wanted this...no denying that for all this shivering and begging, that he was keen.

It was as if some spirit of lust descended on him at that moment. As his new Maid pushed back, as the dragon ground that plump rump against his crotch and against his cock, he couldn't hold back. It drew him in. The sheer pleasure of domination, the knowledge that this belonged to him, that this hole was his to play with and rut, and the soft gasps and moans that did nothing to discourage him: all of that hit him hard and left him helpless to his urges as he rammed in and out, harder, faster, deeper, each time feeling that clenching tightness encouraging him to go faster on the next thrust, harder.

He pinned the dragon against the wall, fingers flexing into claws to rake over that skirt. Dylin slumped against it, fingers splayed against the wooden panels, his eyes closed tight as he was fucked from behind. The inner heat of that hole, the warmth and tightness clenching around the cat's cock, made him feel like a hunter that had claimed his prey.

In, out, in, out. The skirt went up and that tail went off to the side, giving him a perfect view of an ass so round and full that it didn't look male. Even now, looking down, he would have thought that he was rutting a female, watching that tight pucker pulling out a bit, clenching around his shaft as he pulled out, only to slide right back in a moment later. Dylin's moans went higher and higher with each thrust, and soon, the protests were dying off, replaced with whimpers of utter need and wanton desire.

Simon was hardly in a better position, though. Every time that he rammed himself forward, every time that he felt that hole clenching around him, he felt like the alpha male. The clenching, tight walls, the heat that wrapped around his shaft and milked it, the soft slipperiness that he thrust against again and again, it pulled him deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of arousal. He wanted to cum, and at the same time, he never wanted this to end.

In and out, in and out he went, each time feeling the jiggle of the pillowy ass to cheeks to either side of his cock, each time feeling a sudden spasm through the inner walls around his cock milking him of everything that he had. His balls were tense and tight, pulling up, almost pushing him over the edge, but he kept pushing it back down.

Not yet.

Not yet.

In, out, in, out, humping harder and faster, leaning forward to get a good grip around the dragon's throat. Not to choke, but to hold, imagining the Maid with a collar there. The thought was hot, and the idea of putting this little dragon under him for all eternity hotter still.

This one...this one is mine...

And despite the various moans and whimpers, there was no doubt that the draconic Maid of the Body enjoyed what was done to him. That throbbing shaft poked out from under his skirt, and his toes curled into the rugs beneath them. Every hilting thrust was matched with a moan of desire, and his hole clenched with practice, going from loose to tight and tight to loose, always welcoming, never becoming boring.

And no matter how hard the cat used him, he came back for more.

In, out, in, out, never quite popping loose no matter how far Simon pulled his hips back, as Dylin would just push back that little bit more and catch his cock before it could happen. There was no spilling, no dripping, no slime running down the dragon's thighs as the fuck went on. In fact, the long, sheer stockings that the dragon wore were dry and smooth, rubbing against Simon's legs every time that he pushed forward.

He couldn't hold out. Not for long. Not against that.

With a deep moan, he finally hilted in that pucker, holding himself close as he felt his cock jumping, twitching, spasming. Beneath him, Dylin shivered.

A Maid of the Body knew to emphasize what their master wanted, of course, and the dragon was no exception. He arched his back, he pushed against the cat behind him, and he allowed his own pleasure to spill along the edges of his skirt and along the front of his stockings, but nothing touched the floor, nor stained the wall. It was a perfect show of submission, just as the Maids of the Body were trained to give.

"My room," Simon said. "I want...I want to continue on the bed."

"Y-yes, master," Dylin said, and they were off.

As his Maid blew him, Simon finally felt a bit more at ease. All the pleasure from the last three orgasms - god bless cat genes - had actually made him feel less pent up, less stiff and less formal. It felt like he had broken through something that had prevented him from enjoying his new life nearly as much as he would have liked, and now, he felt free to...indulge.

Rubbing the dragon's head as he looked at the booklet - he'd checked for a website, but there was nothing about the Academy there, oddly enough - he perused some of the other Maids. There were quite the variety of them to order, but he was stuck on more of the Maids of the Body.

Much as he hated to admit it, he was becoming something of a hedonist, someone that wanted to have more people like Dylin around. He had the funds, admittedly - Dylin had cost about $300k, yes, but he had somewhere around $90 million still - and that would make his life more enjoyable. There was no judgment from the dragon beneath him, no reminder that this wasn't the way that people would normally treat someone else. Instead, there was this feeling of 'proper places,' that he was allowed this because of his money and his status as a master, and that Dylin belonged where he was due to the fact that the dragon had signed up to become a Maid in the first place.

They had both made their choices, and neither of them had been misled. They were merely enjoying themselves.

As the dragon's lips pressed a bit harder at the base of the cat's cock, sucking away the last of his juices, Simon turned the booklet to the dragon's old listing. Despite it being the same copy that Devil had handed him, the dragon's entry in it was gone. It was almost magical...

And perhaps it was.

He shook his head, not wanting to think too hard about that as he looked down at his Maid again. He smiled.

"You enjoy this, don't you?"

"Mmmmph..."

"You don't have to play around for my sake. You can be honest this time."

Dylin hesitated for a moment, then slowly pulled back. The dragon replaced his mouth with his gloved hand, and that satin grip was almost as good as the touch of those lips.

"I enjoy it, master. I wouldn't be a Maid of the Body if I didn't. I hope that I can get this as often as possible from you."

"Oh, you'll get something from me..."

"Often?"

"Well, as long as you can earn it."

"A Maid of the Body is nothing if not competitive for their master's attention."

"Then it should be interesting for you to compete with another Maid."

"...Master?"

"I'm getting another one."

Dylin didn't respond to that, but instead went back to blowing the cat. Simon was happy enough with that as he browsed through the listings.

Of course, Maids of the Body did not come cheap, and there was a reason for that. They were trained very well to do what they did, and that training had an effect on them that most of the world didn't have a chance to see and understand. They were trained to fulfill all the urges that their owner had, to do what they wanted no matter how hard or difficult or intense it was...

But to do that, they went through a training that most people would never withstand, and they were left with urges of their own that had to be fulfilled. The greed of the rich was seldom restrained, but there was a tradition to never have more than one Maid of any particular type. No rules, of course, but tradition.

If Simon wanted to have more than one Maid of the Body, Dylin thought, then the cat might swiftly come to find out why there was such a tradition...but it was not the place of the Maid to question the master, merely provide for his needs.

The End

Summary: Simon inherits a massive amount of money as well as a mansion, one that's starting to fall apart. Rather than sort through all the low-tier maids, however, he's given access to something better. Maids. With a capital 'M'. What are they? Come and find out...

Tags: M/M, Dragon, Cat, Rich, Inheritance, Prostitution, Maid, Dress, Crossdressing, Anal, Oral, Blowjob, Orgasm, Cum, Maid Dress, Series, Teasing, Devotion, Semi-Slavery,