Hello, my name is Teddy. I know what you’re thinking - it’s kind of twee but my woman slave insisted upon it on the account of once having a grandfather with the same name. Apparently, that was his pet-name, his Sunday one being Edwin. I rather like Edwin, it has a serene, authoritative dignity about it and this is how I see myself: quiet, refined and totally at ease with issuing orders. I’m a house-cat you see. Having a couple of flesh slaves wait upon you paw and tail is what comes with the territory. So, you may call me Edwin if you like but I expect when you see my picture you’ll want to call me Teddy:
Yes, that’s just about what everyone thinks: I’m round and undeniably furry. And so if you look like one then you may as well be called one. Teddy it is. Over to you, sister.
Hello, my name is Martha. I am Teddy’s sister and as yet am a little unsure of my name’s origins. Together, we own two slaves: a woman and a man. I’ve discovered that they have impeccable credentials in the area of feline servitude as they never tire of feeding us, grooming us, keeping our litter fresh and praising us for our numerous talents. And I have many. My main one is looking good. I am one beautiful kitty:
The picture is adequate in revealing my visual sensuality. As you can see, my eyes are a special feature: large, perfectly spherical and alight with glowing amber. Either side of my pert and pretty nose I have beautifully spaced graceful whiskers. All these you can clearly detect but what would it be like to feel my fur? Of course, I grant my slaves access to this pleasure. I love to watch their big pink faces light up as I roll over and expose my silk-soft underbelly and wait for their caress.
Introductions are now complete; let’s find out what it’s like to be two ridiculously pampered British Shorthairs.
