Dear Kitten,

Our moments have pleased me greatly, and I want more–many more. In fact, I insist.

But right now, Kitten, what I want is to hold you so that you can’t move. I want to lay you down on your back and hold your wrists together in front of you in one hand, tightly, pressing you down into the bed, while I look at you and stroke your hair. I want to sit with you leaning back against me, my arms wrapped too tightly around you.

I want you trapped, pinned, restrained, held. Not tied–we’ll do that again, but not right now. Right now, I want to be a brute. I want to overpower you, overwhelm you, overcome your little muscles with my big ones and imprison you.

And I want to command you. I want to tell you what to do, just for the sake of watching you obey. I want to put my hand on your throat and gently turn your head, tell you to look at me, tell you to open your mouth and suck my finger.

This moment–all the time, really–I want you helplessly obedient.

Sir