Catgirls And Dungeons (Yuri)

Evening foot massages are usually a task for one of my handmaids. It's a ritual I've grown accustomed to—part luxury, part necessity after a long day on my feet.

But tonight, I wanted something different.

Tonight, I wanted her.

I wanted to see what it would be like… to have Morvena kneel before me.

To touch me.

To take care of me.

And to watch her face while she did it.

—————————

"Mmmhh…"

A soft moan escapes my lips as I sink deeper into the plush cushions of my velvet chaise, one leg stretched out, the other cradled delicately in Morvena's lap.

She kneels on the floor, posture straight, her hands working slowly over my bare foot. Her fingers press into my sole in slow, deliberate strokes, thumbs tracing gentle circles, massaging the tension out from the arch.

Each touch is delicate—

But oh… so very effective.

Her skin is warm against mine. Her fingertips slightly calloused, yet careful, reverent. She presses deeper this time, and I feel the tightness in my toes unfurl like petals blooming under the sun.

"Ah~…"

A quiet sound hums in my throat, thick with satisfaction.

Drip…

Morvena tilts the golden glass bottle.

Warm massage oil pours over the crown of my foot, drizzling between my toes, across the curve of my heel, and down the slope of my ankle in shimmering rivulets. She catches it in her palms, then slowly spreads it—rubbing it into my skin, drawing slow, tickling lines across the surface.

Between my toes.

Along the gentle swell of my heel.

Up across the top of my foot.

Down to the sensitive dip behind my ankle.

Her fingers are slick now, gliding with practiced care, tracing soft lines over the most sensitive places.

And I—

I can't help it.

My back arches.

My lips part.

"Mmmnh~…"

It slips out, soft and low—half moan, half sigh.

Her thumbs dig a little deeper into the arch of my foot, and my body answers in kind: a gentle tremble, a slow clench of my thighs, a quiet wave of warmth blooming low in my belly.

The oil might be enchanted, yes.

But this melting sensation spreading through me—

It isn't just magic.

It's her.

"Your Highness…" Morvena's voice trembles softly, brushing against my thoughts like silk.

And then…

"May I~?" she asks gently, voice almost a whisper.

Eyes still half-lidded, I tilt my head back and give her a slow, lazy nod.

"Mhm…"

I lift the hem of my nightgown, slow and deliberate, the fabric whispering as it slides up my thigh—revealing the pale, smooth length of my calf beneath.

Morvena's breath hitches.

She doesn't speak.

But I feel it.

In the way her hands hesitate—just for a heartbeat.

In the subtle tremble in her fingertips as her gaze lingers, then quickly drops.

And then, with almost too much care, she applies more oil—warming it between her palms—before pressing them to my leg.

Up and down.

Slow, tender.

Not too firm. Not too light.

Just enough pressure to coax a deeper breath from my lips.

Her touch glides along my skin in practiced strokes, but there's something different now. Something less clinical. Less obedient. More… reverent.

Every now and then, her fingers slip—just slightly—tracing over a sensitive spot near the back of my knee, or brushing against the inside of my calf, and I shudder.

A sharp inhale escapes me.

A sigh follows.

I bite down gently on my lower lip, trying to contain it.

Gods…

It feels too good.

The heat coiling in my chest, the flutter in my stomach—it's starting to drown out every thought. I can feel my composure slipping, sliding further with every stroke of her hands.

But then…

Wait.

Wait a damn minute!!!

Wasn't I supposed to be doing something else?

The haze in my mind slowly parts—and I open my eyes.

And what I see makes my breath catch.

What… the hell?

Morvena…

Still kneeling dutifully before me.

Still massaging…

Yet now, she's completely different!!!

Her hands tremble, just slightly, still working, still massaging… but tracing the same path over and over again. There's a soft tremor in her shoulders, one I might've missed if I hadn't been watching so closely. Her lips are parted, her breaths shallow, quick, like she's trying to catch air that won't come fast enough.

Her face, once calm and composed, is now visibly flushed.

And her eyes…

Half-lidded, clouded.

Focused entirely on me—on my legs, my skin. Her pupils seem to dilate just a little more than they should.

A single drop of oil slips from her fingertip, tracing a slow, shimmering path down the length of my shin before falling onto the floor.

Yet she doesn't notice.

Or maybe she does, but doesn't care?!

Her gown, once so perfectly modest, has slipped just off her shoulder, revealing the gentle slope of skin beneath. A pale line from her collarbone to her arm glows softly in the candlelight.

She makes no move to fix it.

It's like… she's in some kind of trance.

Like my leg has somehow hypnotized her.

And suddenly…

A different kind of heat stirs inside me.

A dangerous kind.

Oh shit…

I lean back, covering my face with my hand, trying, and failing, to hide the wicked grin spreading across my lips.

My body heats up, to a dangerous level.

I can't believe it.

Am I… turned on by this?

ME??? BY THIS?

What the hell is wrong with me?!!!

And just like that, I find myself locked in a silent war with my own mind. Embarrassment, confusion, desire… all tangled together, crashing through me like a rising tide.

Until finally—

"I decide I have to do something.

Otherwise… my leg's going to overdose on magical massage oil!"

"A-Are you okay?" I ask, hesitantly.

Morvena doesn't respond.

Her eyes remain locked—completely, utterly—on my foot. Her fingers continue to move, pressing, caressing, massaging in steady, delicate circles. Her palms glide with such focus, such care, it's as if she's forgotten where she is.

"Oi… Morvena?" I say again, this time a little firmer.

Still nothing.

"Morvena!?"

This time—

"Hikhhh!"

She jolts, startled, snapping back to reality as if waking from a dream. Her hands freeze mid-motion. Her gaze darts away, and her face—already tinged with pink—ignites into a deep, burning crimson.

"Y-Y-Your Highness," she stammers, trying to shield her face with her soft blue hair. Her ears twitch violently. Her voice trembles, barely audible. "S-Sorry… I… I was just…"

"Are you okay?" I ask again, this time gently, curiously.

"Y-Yes… I'm alright," she murmurs, still avoiding my eyes. "S-Shall I… continue?"

Ah…

Actually, my leg's already been way over-pampered, over massaged.

But…

Ahhhhhhhhhhh

I don't know!

I kind of want this to continue….

Hehe~

So…

As shameless as I am, I nod. "Yes… you may."

She swallows, then resumes—her fingers brushing against my skin with renewed caution, as though even she isn't sure what she's doing anymore. Or why.

I lean back into the couch, resting my cheek against my palm, and simply… watch her.

Just watch.

And gods… I could watch her forever.

Her eyes are downcast, her cheeks still flushed. Her hands move with such care, such reverence, it almost makes me shiver. Every motion is graceful, focused. She's lost in her own world—one where her only task is to touch me, to soothe me, to be close to me.

Badump.

Badump.

My heart drums in my chest, loud and fast.

And then, everything else fades.

The walls, the candles, the dark carpeted floor, the taste of wine still lingering on my tongue—all of it becomes distant noise.

Only Morvena remains clear.

Only her.

And my oily leg.