Teeth clentched, grinding in resolve to hold in the pain that comes with pleasure, the smell of the fresh dirt inundudates your nose. The proximity of the ground is comforting, its solid length benieth your back. The leather straps holding each hand and foot far away from your body gives you a sence of abandonment. You could not disobey if you tried. You look up and see in my arms a bushy black cat and dish of butter that has been sitting in room temperature. The cat is set at your head and rubs your naked flesh as it walks by claiming your side as it's own. I press little wads of the creamy butter onto each of your nipples and between the curly bush that hides that already worked nodule between your niether lips. The yellow eyes of the cat are shown it's decidant treat and it sets to work licking away the oily butter from your right nipple. It's rough tounge is so light that it tickles against the pink flesh around your nipple. Each caress of the cat's hunger awakens and teases your nipple. You can feel the clit between your warm flesh grow and pulse with desire. The cat finishes with one side and steps a paw between your breasts, it's fur dragging across the flesh it has just tormented. The rough texture caresses so gently that you are unable to determine the emotion it provokes. Your back begins to curve as you thrust your hips forward silently begging for entry and satisfaction. The butter is gone from your left nipple. The cat nips gently at the nipple itself to see if it is edible. The pain is exquisit but only enough to make you long for more. I pick up the dark silken fluff and place it between your legs where it hungerly laps at your clit. While you are horrified that you are recieving such pleasure from an animal, you can not help but undulate your hips to try and make the cat's tounge harder against your pleasure center. You want fullfillment. You are on the edge, tettering precariously on the edge of that other-worldy orgasm that is unachievable with such light preasure. You role your head to the side praying in your passion that you will not be left wanting. The cat has consummed the butter and is removed. You are left alone with your legs held apart and your hands above your head to wait out the boiling of your passion, to let the steam seep away into only a rumbling of imagination, desire, and frustration.