You’re standing naked but for your bra and panties. I’m standing behind you, not touching you but so close that you think you can feel the heat from my bare chest against your back. I’ve been there for a minute or two, not touching you but close — you can hear me breathing slowly, you can almost feel the tension in my body as a vibration in the air between us.

My feeling of possession is profound, deep, unshakeable. You’re mine to do with as I please, helpless to resist because you’ve committed yourself to submission, and because it’s a point of pride in you now to give me everything I want without hesitation. I know you want to be challenged, to prove yourself to me, even as you’re afraid of what I might demand.

And you are afraid. You’ve seen me tense with desire, but never as tense as I am now. You know I’ve come a long way to be with you, waited a long time, and I’ve told you that I’m going to claim you, mark you, leave you with a physical reminder of my ownership of your body that will last for days.

You know that I want your surrender. I want to physically overwhelm you, to leave you gasping and aching and almost crying with both pleasure and pain, the two blending together so completely that you won’t even know which is which. All you’ll know is that you want it, all of it and more, and that you’ll submit to everything I do to you.

I’m standing behind you, looking at you, wanting to touch you but savoring this moment. Once I touch you, I know that my need will drive me to have you, and this moment of anticipation will end. And I’m beside myself, right now, with the thought of my hands closing on your arms, your neck, and holding you still; of grasping your throat and tipping your head back and telling you how I’m going to break your body tonight; of commanding you to your knees before me. I want all of this and I want it now. Yet I wait, because the sight of you standing before me, waiting, nervous, already captured but still untouched, is exciting to me: I have you, and I’m about to take you, and I have the luxury of appreciating that moment.

My hand is suddenly on your neck, your head tipped back, my fingers very firm though not gripping you so tightly that it frightens you. I still haven’t spoken, but you can hear the self-control in my breathing, and you know that I must be wound very tightly inside for my breathing to be so measured and calm. You moan, a small desperate sound —

— and I could consume you, devour you, ravish you that very moment. Later, much later, I’ll be gentle with you. Right now, Kitten, I need to have you, need to use you up. Need to send you to your knees and yank your head back and look into your eyes and possess you completely.

Counting the hours, Kitten.