I told him what the name Kitten does to me. I'm not his pet, but the name still has this enormous power over me - the power to put me in my place, to make me look up at him with wide eyes, the power to make me beg. His hand was on my neck, resting there lightly as he pushed the fingers of his other hand into me, when he softly whispered into my ear, "You're mine, Kitten." His words made my whole body shudder.
I'm not his pet, but I am his little girl. I'm his good girl, his naughty girl, his slutty hungry girl, his used fucked girl. I'm his Kitten, the girl who yearns to be just what he needs.
I approach him freely and then he takes over my mind and every inch of my body. He holds me in his thrall and he teaches me. He spins amazing fantasies of all of the things he has planned for me, all that I will learn to take just for him.
I'm scared of the things he's told me that he has planned. I'm even more scared of those things he has not yet revealed.
And he knows how wet I get when I'm scared.