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Lesbian D/s Pet Age Play:

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The nursery door creaks open at exactly 7:00 p.m., and little kitten Lila’s heart flutters like a trapped moth. Mommy Elena stands in the doorway wearing a crisp white blouse tucked into high-waisted black slacks, sleeves rolled to the elbow, the picture of calm authority. A pastel-pink collar dangles from two fingers—today’s reward for being “Mommy’s good babygirl all week.”

Lila is already on the sheepskin rug, knees apart, palms up, fluffy white tail plug swishing behind her because she knows the rules: kittens don’t walk on two legs after six o’clock. A soft onesie printed with tiny moons snaps between her thighs, but the crotch is open tonight—Mommy likes easy access for inspections. The pacifier clipped to her collar bobs as she lets out a needy mewl.

“There’s my precious baby,” Elena coos, voice honey-sweet yet edged with steel. She kneels, cups Lila’s chin, and tilts it up. “Did kitten miss Mommy?”

A frantic nod, ears flopping. Lila tries to nuzzle into Elena’s palm, but Mommy pulls back just enough to make her chase it. “Words, little one. Use your big-girl voice for Mommy.”

“M-Mommy, kitten missed you so much,” Lila whispers around the paci, cheeks burning.

Elena’s smile is slow, predatory. “Good babies get bottles. Naughty babies receive spankings and time in the corner. Which one will it be tonight?”

Lila’s thighs clench; the plug shifts deliciously. “Good! Kitten was good!”

“Prove it.” Elena unclips the pacifier, replaces it with a warm bottle of vanilla milk laced with just enough melatonin to make Lila floaty and pliant. She settles into the rocking chair and pats her lap. Lila crawls over, climbs up carefully, settling so her knees straddle Mommy’s thigh. The onesie snaps are popped open with a soft rip of velcro. Cool air kisses slick folds; Lila whimpers.

Elena guides the nipple into Lila’s mouth and begins to rock. “Suck, baby. Slow and steady. Mommy’s going to check how wet her little kitten got today.”

One gloved hand cradles the bottle; the other slips between Lila’s legs, two fingers sliding through swollen heat. Lila keens around the silicone nipple, hips bucking instinctively. Elena tuts.

“Uh-uh. Babies don’t hump unless Mommy says. Hold still or I’ll stop.”

Lila freezes, trembling, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from the effort. The rocking chair creaks rhythmically; the bottle empties in tiny, obedient swallows. When it’s done, Elena sets it aside and wipes Lila’s mouth with a soft cloth if she really is too little to do it herself.

“Inspection time.” Elena lifts Lila effortlessly and lays her on the changing table. The tail plug is eased out with a slick pop; Lila whines at the sudden emptiness. Mommy spreads her thighs wide and fastens soft cuffs to keep them open. “Look at this messy kitten. Dripping all over Mommy’s nice, clean table.”

A baby wipe glides over sensitive skin, calm and humiliatingly gentle. Then warm lube, then the slow press of a thicker, ridged kitten tail. Lila’s back arches; a high, broken meow spills out.

“Shh. Deep breath, babygirl. Take every inch for Mommy.” Elena twists the plug until it seats perfectly, the fluffy white fur brushing the backs of Lila’s thighs. “There we go. My perfect little kitty-cat.”

She unfastens the cuffs only to flip Lila onto her tummy, propping a pillow beneath her hips. “Ten thank-yous,” Mommy announces, voice deceptively calm. The first swat lands sharp across one cheek—more sting than pain, exactly calibrated for a little who bruises easily. Lila squeaks, toes curling.

“Thank you, Mommy!”

Another swat, harder. “Thank you, Mommy!”

By seven, Lila is a sobbing, writhing mess, grinding helplessly against the pillow. At ten, Elena gathers her up, cradles her close, peppers kisses over hot skin. “All done, sweet kitten. Mommy’s so proud.”

Lila clings, face buried in Elena’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender and leather. Mommy rocks her, humming an old lullaby, until the tears dry and only soft purrs remain.

Later, when the nursery light dims to a night-light glow, Elena tucks Lila into the adult-sized crib—blankets, stuffed, and a fresh diaper because “babies have accidents when they’re this little.” She leans over the rail and brushes a curl from Lila’s damp forehead.

“Sleep tight, my love. Tomorrow we’ll try the new mittens and see if Kitten can still hold her sippy cup.”

Lila’s answering smile is sleepy, trusting, utterly gone. In Mommy’s arms, she is safe to be as small and as wild as she needs—loved beyond measure, owned completely, and cherished absolutely.