When he started calling me "Kitten" all of those months ago, I thought it was a cute nickname. It was one of many in that early phase, but it is the one that has not only stuck, but has also grown in significance. He still calls me "baby" and sometimes "bunny" (and even sometimes "kitten bunny," which is ridiculous), but Kitten is now my name as far as He is concerned. He even calls me Kitten in public, which usually provokes funny stares when we are among strangers.
Anyway, when we're close and he calls me Kitten, it sets off this reaction in me. It immediately makes me feel small, physically and emotionally. It brings me to that little girl place where I am used as his plaything and his toy. It makes me feel squirmy and cuddly, so that all I want to do is curl up against him and maybe nip at his neck. He has said to me many times, "You are a little kitten, aren't you?," like he is surprised at how he made me.
When I am Kitten, I want to roll over on my back and turn my head to look up at him so that he will rub my neck. That look is innocent and maybe it is a little not-so-innocent. The playful little look I give him often turns him into a snarling beast. He becomes his own animal, one who bites me mercilessly and tears at my flesh. He rakes his fingernails down my back and licks his lips as he contemplates all of the many ways that he is going to hurt me. He takes that little kitten and makes her his prey, he makes her tremble and shake in fear.
He makes me less of a person, in a sense. We haven't explored the extremes of objectification as of yet, but when I am that little animal, I am something less than a person. I am not a career-minded, independent woman at that point. I am a soft, dependent creature. As his aggression grows and he starts to hurt me, he makes me feel smaller, tells me to stop whining, that I am his to fuck. I become his movable doll, his mold-able fantasy. I start to become a thing, outside of myself.
He has taken me from woman, to girl, to animal, to thing. What a transformation.