[Calm. Be calm, Kitten. Be still. We’ll work on this, on breathing slowly and growing calm, and on finding peace. — Sir]

Kitten,

I am bodily in  my usual in-town haunt, drinking coffee and hoping for an hour or two of uninterrupted, reasonably productive work time.

But in my mind, Kitten, I’m elsewhere. In my mind, I’m stepping into my bedroom and pausing to look at you. You’re standing by my bed, almost naked, waiting for me just as I’ve told you to be. And the moment I see  you, Kitten, I feel the quiet predator awaken in me: my pulse slows, my breathing slows, time seems to slow, and the world becomes only me, and you, and what I want to do to you, and how I want to make you feel.

You can feel it in my hand on your throat, can’t you? The grip is not tight, but you know you can’t get free. You know that, don’t you, Kitten? You know that there’s absolutely nothing you could do to escape, nothing you could do to break the hold of my arm around your body as I stand behind you. (You could say something and be free in an instant; we both know that. But, short of using words, you’re as captive as if you were already tied.)

You know, don’t you, Kitten, that, when I stand behind you with my arm tightly around your waist, bend you double, push your shoulders down to the bed, brusquely shoving your legs apart with mine–you know, Kitten, that at that moment I can take what I want, as hard and as fast as I want, my hands on your hips making it impossible for you to escape my deep thrusts. You know that.

You know how helpless you are once I have my hand on you, how strong I am and how strong is my want and desire, my need. You know how completely at my mercy you are.

You know how completely safe you are.

Your willing submission, Kitten, is the most erotic and captivating thing I’ve ever experienced.

Come to me. Soon.

Love,
Sir