Warm and clean stuff the hours that follow.  Warm and clean and calm.<br/><br/>Gerlinde had promised as much, and she prided herself on making her word come true.  She had promised violence for the slightest measure of deliberate failure or disappointment, and had written the truth of that promise on the tender media of Lisle kitty's rump and sides with the horsewhip.  She had promised discovery of new ways of want and motion, and had dilated Lisle kitty's desires with that hot, ecstatic truth.  The promise of calm was perhaps the most difficult.  Gerlinde saw it through with the devotion of a monk.<br/><br/>She determined she would enjoy it as well, and did.<br/><br/>Layers of fluffy scrubbing were laid on Lisle kitty, far beyond what was required to dry her.  Gerlinde would tilt Lisle pussy's face up to hers with a finger beneath the chin, and would gaze down as she rubbed the girl's nudity to a tingling heat.<br/><br/>That heat was then safely stowed under a blanket on the couch.  She wrapped Lisle kitty up like a bit of butter in a pancake, then set to making them both breakfast.  As she did, she dressed - insofar as that she pulled on loose fatigue pants that she wore for pajamas, tucking them into her high, lampoil shiny boots.<br/><br/>They ate on the couch, Gerlinde in its spongy suede cushion center, Lisle kitty perched half across a thigh.  Gerlinde had tomatoes, cheese and ham; some she would slide into Lisle puss' mouth while petting her crown in plush permission.  Lisle kitty got chocolate milk through a straw, steamy hot and rich as the color of the Bavarian Alps.  Her fingers took little tastes of Lisle kitty's nudity as well - a brush of a silky oblique, a trace of her cheekbone, tap of her thigh, a circle of her navel; little touches left like easter eggs for Lisle kitty's nerves to bundle up and glow with.<br/><br/>And so calm stuffed the hours in its many forms.  Gerlinde turned on the only site stream she could bear to watch on TV - Science Fiction - and with Lisle kitty a toasty hill toppled upon her side, they watched some of the old classics and new hits: Wanderlust, Harm Inc., Psyscape, Firefly, Telos and Battlestar Galactica.  Things became almost peaceful.<br/><br/>The bad thoughts were just as distant as the stink of the crowded barracks that hunched in the frosty alien world of the yard.  Gerlinde's world was a hermetic place of steam and synthetic cotton and soft kitty breaths curling warm around her breast, as Lisle kitty's head lay on its big, round bareness.  Her cock was the only intrusion.  Time and again, it would rise - inspired by a rub or nuzzle from Lisle puss, or by the creamy musk at the core of her scent, or simply by thinking on what was next to come.  It would stand between them, urgent and livid with accusation.  But Gerlinde would let it be.  And after awhile, the downy weight of the calm would press it down, curling it to throb fat and petulant between her thighs.<br/><br/>The final time it rose - during the premiere episode of Battlestar Galactica - Gerlinde knew she would need more distraction to discourage it.  Lust was raking its fingernails up from the grip of her prostate.  The head was high and raging dark, lifted from the open seam of her fatigues to reach for Lisle kitty's bare nipple.<br/><br/>She picked up the second glass of steamy chocolate milk from the side table, bringing the straw to Lisle kitty's mouth.  Ignoring the aching pulse of flesh inches from touching kitty, Gerlinde pet her throat and demanded her eyes with a stare.<br/><br/>"How is my good kitty?"  She asked in a hush, as though speaking to Lisle in sleep.  "Calm?"