Kitten,

It has been too long, and I’m restless. I find myself sitting here at my desk daydreaming about you — about you kneeling, of course, or lying on your back with me above you. I wonder how many hundreds of times I’ve made you kneel for me, how many times I’ve thrust so deeply that I choked you, and held your head so you couldn’t pull away.

Want.

In just a few more days I’ll have you again. I’m going to be rough with you. Whenever we’re apart, I feel an urge to reclaim your little body; I’m feeling that already, and it’ll be even more intense next week. (You should begin getting ready for what is inevitably going to happen. It’s been too long since we’ve done that, too, my poor little Kitten.)

It’s been too long since I’ve taken my time with you, kept you standing and waiting, and then made you kneel by my bed while I watched you service your mean old Q. I can see you now, my hand under your chin tipping you up so I can look at you, before pushing into your throat and telling you, again and again, “all the way, Kitten. Take it all. Good girl.”

Want. Pacing, restless want.

Words can’t begin to fill the gap, Kitten. Only having you here will do that, having you here long enough to use you thoroughly and to leave you exhausted and floating.

I want my obedient little sub. Soon, and completely.

Love,
Q