Old Cat, New Cat [WIP] [Bittersweet] [Romantic] [conflict] [bdsm] [old young] [Lesbian] [feedback welcome]

Take a look into my post history for some more context as to what this whole world looks like. The rough story is that there exists in our world an Island that was settled about a century ago by people looking for a place where they could live out their BDSM utopia in peace. My main character is a journalist who has gone to this country to document their culture through interviews and observations. If you have any questions about this concept of society, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE reach out as answering questions is the best way I can focus and do robust worldbuilding. This particular story is about an older mistress and her slave adapting to the young slave she has purchased to take care of them both in their twilight years. This is just the beginning, but I am really focusing more on the romance than the eroticism in this one.

Old Cat, New Cat.

Agatha was an elegant woman even at eighty four. Her hair had long moved up into the typical grey perm of women her age but she still insisted on being dressed to the highest standards when she agreed to meet with me in the drawing room of her townhouse. Immaculately kept antiques jewelry highlighted her striking features. She had a thin face and piercing eyes. I found myself at once comforted and intimidated by her gaze throughout our several sessions. Her cheeks angled down her gracefully wrinkled face towards a pair of lips that seemed to be always smirking at an unknown joke. It seems to me that in this culture a piercing gaze like that is something to be expected in someone who has held the title of Mistress for so long. Though Agatha insisted that I did not use it when addressing her. There were only two people in the household expected to follow that particular piece of decorum.

The first I will mention was Kristine, (or Kris, Krissy, Kay, Darling, Dear, Sweetheart, My Love as Agatha also called her). A year younger than Agatha, but just as beautiful. Though she didn’t like to show it. Kristine wore a very plain black dress and apron with a sleek interpretation of a maid’s bonnet that clearly came from the 60s. Her hair was still long though it was pulled up into a simple bun. Kristine had been Agatha’s slave and lover for the past fifty-five years. She had only been her wife for the past twenty. I later learned this was due to Kristine’s refusal and I suppose there is no better place to begin the story of my interaction with these two than that conversation. Kristine was a slave of the old school if there ever was one and did not believe in slaves marrying their Owners no matter how in love they may be. As Agatha put it “After a few decades of pestering she finally realized who was boss and that becoming my wife had become a direct order.” When she said this, Kristine offered her opinion in the diplomatic manner I had come to expect from very experienced slaves, “Madame was simply rushing and it is my job to make certain you don’t make any rash decisions.”

“Waiting thirty years to propose is rushing?” Agatha howled with laughter.

“Madame does not often realize when she rushes and when she does not. She would do to listen to the advice of those who know and love her best.” Kristine replied with a certain amount of venom that was not present before. There was a pause for a moment as the smile left Agatha’s face.

“If our bones would allow it girl I would have you over my knees so fast it would show you what rushing means.” A pause. Kristine did not look at her Mistress. Agatha sighed, “Krissy go to the kitchen and fix our guest some tea and sandwiches please.”

“Yes Madame” said Kristine as she turned and walked away.

Agatha, finally showing the tiredness of her age, sighed again and rubbed her temples. She looked at me delivered one of those lipless, toothless smiles people do when they are about to apologize for something that they feel should be in their control but isn’t.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that. That may not have been shocking in your culture but here that was…quite rude to do in front of a guest.”

“That’s quite alright Agatha.” I responded, uncertain of what to say.

“She’s a good girl, she always has been. She would never admit this but that woman is better than me in every way. I won’t mince words; Kris has kept me alive and out of trouble for fifty five-years. I hope you don’t mind vulgarity, but she has been with me through some terrible fuckups of mine. And yet in the past year I feel like I’ve lost her due to my mistake.” Agatha trailed off but at this point I was on the edge of my seat.

“May I ask what mistake that is?”

“Kris hasn’t forgiven me for Rebecca.” Rebecca was Agatha’s other, far younger slave. I shall describe her in more detail later.

“I see.”

“May I ask you a question?” Agatha asked me. I nodded in approval. “Do we look old to you?”

I stuttered an unsatisfactory answer. This culture always surprised me with the way it shifted constantly between the utmost decorum and the most direct statements and questions.

“Please, you’re a terrible dancer and you won’t get any better practicing on this question” The smirk had returned to her face. I relaxed at her somewhat cutting but ultimately playful joke.

“Yes Ma’am, both of you do look your age, objectively.”

“Of course we do! Any fool could see that. And our doctors see it. And we see it. She and I feel it in our bones. Like it or not the end is near for both of us and I just want Kristine to be happy. Rebecca was supposed to fix that.”

At this point I ventured another question, “What role was Rebecca supposed to fill as a new slave in the house?”

“Well, my grand plan was that she would gradually take on the more strenuous roles that Krissy does, the gardening, laundry, hands and knees cleaning, that sort of thing. That way Kris could transition out of that role and we could, well to put it bluntly, spend our last days having sex, reading books, and relaxing. Something I’ve been chasing my whole second act.” Agatha laughed

“Kristine didn’t like that idea?”

“Not one bit. She hates Rebecca. And once you’ll meet Rebecca you will see that there is nothing to hate. She’s excellent. Straight out of school, dutiful, devoted, smart. My other big plan was that Rebecca could use the two of us for practice working in a house and get some excellent training for later postings. The poor thing is only twenty-three and so eager to learn. It could be said she’s a little short on personality but with Krissy waiting to pounce at every turn it’s a little hard for that flower to bloom, you know?”

“Does Kris see-“

“Kristine. Sorry to interrupt you but as you know names are quite important here. Please take no offense”

“Of course. Does Kristine view Rebecca as a, and pardon me for suggesting this, a romantic rival?”

Agatha sighed at that and tilted her head back.

“Oh yes. I should have bought a boy. Stupid me for thinking the presence of a man in the house would throw the equilibrium off. And to be clear, it is absolutely, positively not physical between Rebecca and I. That was not on the table, and I made that clear to Rebecca from the beginning. And she’s fine with that. To tell you the truth I don’t even know if she likes girls. She’s probably bored out of her mind sexually in this house. But Kris has been on her since day one. Criticizing every little, tiny thing she does, pushing her away from any chores she even attempts. I haven’t caught much of it, but I know Kris is bullying the poor girl. It’s like bringing a new kitten into a house with an old cat. I should have put Rebecca in a room and let Krissy sniff her through the door. The thing is this whole island, this grand experiment that we are a part of is predicated on people willingly serving other people. That’s the point, that’s the culture, you could save a lot of pages in your book if you just wrote that sentence. Rebecca wants to serve. It is her calling. And I had hoped she would learn from the best, but unfortunately the best is behaving like the worst and has been for the past nine months.”

It was at that point there was a light rapping on the glass door behind us. We both turned to see a beautiful, collared, somewhat short slave girl wearing overalls and carrying pair of pruners. She waved gently and pointed at the handle of the sliding door.

“Oh damn it to hell, Krissy has locked Rebecca out again. Would you be so kind as to let her in? With my knees we could be here for a week if I do it.”

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/zhvi5e/old_cat_new_cat_wip_bittersweet_romantic_conflict