[ FYI: In town 2-5, and evening as necessary. ]

Kitten,

Patience. I don’t have much of it either, where you’re concerned. I want you now, I want you constantly, and I want you completely.

But, while neither of us has much patience, we nonetheless must wait. And the effect of that will be to make every moment together intense, to make every time you’re in my bedroom an extraordinary occasion.

We are both going to learn a lot, going to do a lot of new things. If we could, we’d do it all at once. We’d have incredible weeks of exploration and and discovery. We’d do it, we’d overdo it, and we’d be lost in a blur of experiences and sensations. That sounds nice; I’d jump on it if I could.

Instead, we’re going to have many, many moments, each a wonderful and intense coming together and rediscovering. The sex is going to be amazing. The intimacy is going to remain fresh and exciting. We’ll never take any of it for granted. We’ll remain alive and fascinating to each other.

I don’t want to wait either. But, as we must, let’s appreciate the benefits.

But, my god, I miss you, and I want you right now.

Your
Querido

Kitten,

I’ve always wanted to dominate women sexually, but subscribed, albeit without much conviction, to the popular wisdom that says men and women are equal partners–in love as in everything else. I made love in a physically dominating way, but focused my attention on pleasing the women. I think I thus justified to myself the liberties I took, by making sure that I was a gratifying lover: in a sense, I “bought” their acquiescence with the pleasure I gave them. So I enjoyed an implicit control, but one of persuasion rather than authority, and, while I might briefly exert physical control over a woman’s body, I never issued instructions or expected any kind of obedience from her.

I always wanted something else. I always, from my earliest sexual experiences, wanted a woman’s willing and essentially unconditional sexual submission. And I always imagined that this was an aberrant desire, and that the kind of woman who interested me–an intelligent, competent, confident woman–wouldn’t have any wish to submit herself to me, or to any man. I thought that, if such a woman did submit to me, it would be with reservations, merely an act of generosity on her part to fulfill a perhaps unsettling wish on mine.

And then I met you, Kitten, and the tumblers all lined up, and suddenly I understood what is possible: possible and, therefore, in this instance, necessary.

Because I believe you, Kitten. Even though I can’t entirely empathize with your feelings, I can understand, intellectually, how you can find both security and sexual excitement in your submission to me. It makes sense to me in a way that lets me believe it’s genuine, and that you really would, if you could, submit absolutely to me, trusting that my love and duty to you will protect you from too great an excess of my authority.

What that belief means to me, Kitten, is that I can, for the first time, be myself. I can fully embrace both the authority and the duty, both pleasurable for me: the authority to please myself with your willing body however I wish, and the duty to make you feel secure in my love, desire, and respect. This may seem only slightly different from what I had before, but it isn’t: it’s profoundly different. Before, I was buying a woman’s obedience with pleasure. Now, I receive that obedience from you because you’re who you are and that’s what you want to give; I give you pleasure and security because I’m who I am and that’s what I want to provide.

None of this explains why I want to command you, possess you, overwhelm and control you as I do. I’m not sure why. I still think about that. But it’s irresistible. You’re irresistible.

Your
Querido

Kitten,

That’s what I come back to, also, and have all along: two worlds. And, honestly, I don’t know how viable that is. But it seems necessary, or so close to necessary that my ability to distinguish between what I want and what I need breaks down.

As I said earlier, I know myself, know my drives and my passions–and know something of the limits of my self-control. I really do believe that we are inevitable.

Love,
Your Querido

Kitten,

Thank you for your note. I know the touch lingers, and I know you’re thinking of me even as I’m thinking of you. Still, I like to hear it.

I want you to know that this isn’t a trivial thing for me, this world I’ve opened for us. If it were, if it were merely playful, I wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t pursue you and drag you into it. But, as there are first loves, so there must be first dominances and submissions with the same intensity, with the same power to overwhelm–with even more, because the power exchange is in addition to, and not instead of, the love and affection of a more conventional romance.

I’ve never been here before, Kitten. Neither of us has. But I know my own drive and passion, know my need to command you and your need to surrender, and so I know some of what is ahead for us. And I’ve told you some of it here, on these pages.

Love,
Your Querido

[ Kitten, after our conversation earlier today, I’d have written you a very different note–a calming one, a hand lightly stroking your hair, fingers closed gently but firmly around your wrist as I held you still. That is my mood, and those are my thoughts, tonight. But here is the note I wrote yesterday. Love, Querido ]

Kitten,

I’ve told you that I don’t write fiction: everything I’ve described will happen–if it hasn’t happened already. (And, if it has happened already, it will happen again.)

The only exception is this little vignette. I won’t rule it out–the more I daydream about it, the more likely it is that I’ll make it come true. But, for now, this is simply a fantasy.

We’re having a quiet day or two now, Kitten, but remember: it’s still inevitable. Everything.

Oh, and Merry Christmas, Kitten.

Your
Querido

——————————

I’m sitting on one of the couches in my living room, dressed in my usual attire. You’re sitting on the floor near the couch, your legs tucked under you, your head resting against my knee. You’re wearing a bra and panties, both of black lace, a black leather collar, and nothing else. I’m softly stroking your hair as I read a book.

The living room is comfortably warm on this cold winter night, and there’s a fire in the fireplace.

There’s a knock on the door. You look up, startled, and I brush your hair with my hand and say “it’s okay, Kitten. I’m expecting some people. Be still.” Then I get up and go to the door and let our guests in.

Two men and a woman come in. They’re young, college age, and seem a little nervous. But I welcome them, tell them to have a seat on the couch opposite the one I was sitting on, and ask what they’d like to drink. They tell me, and while I get their drinks ready I make small talk, ask if they had any problem finding the place. They aren’t from around here, and have made the drive up, at my request, just for this visit.

I give them their drinks and sit back on the couch, and you lean against my leg. You’re staying especially close to me, not looking at the strangers. You’ve turned so you’re facing me, your back to our guests, and you press your breasts against my leg, holding on a little more tightly.

I absently stroke your hair as I talk to our guests. We talk about various things–politics, their educations (for they are, in fact, college students), and their plans for the future. But it’s a little obvious that they’re distracted by you, by your naked back, by my hand in your hair and brushing your shoulder and neck. The men can’t stop looking at your ass in the sheer black panties.

“Yes, my Kitten is lovely, isn’t she?” I say it sincerely, because it’s true. They nod in agreement, still obviously feeling awkward that they can just sit there and look at you.

“Kitten, come up here with me.” I reach down and take your hand, and you stand and curl up on the couch beside me, again facing away from our guests and toward me. You rest your head on my thigh, your body curled on its side on the couch near me. I run my hand down your side and rest it on your hip, tracing idle circles on your bottom through the thin fabric of your panties.

We talk some more, and while we talk I periodically reach down and rest my hand on your face, brush my fingers against your lips, and stroke your chin and neck. Every time I touch your lips they part, and I can feel your tongue just touching my fingers.

I’m growing hard, and it’s getting uncomfortable. My cock is pressed hard against my jeans. Our guests can’t see it, but you can when you briefly open your eyes; my cock, still inside my pants, is only inches from your face.

I pause for just a moment while telling a story to our guests, and say, quietly but loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Kitten, take my cock out and hold it. It’s becoming uncomfortable.”

You whisper a very quiet “yes, Sir,” that I’m pretty sure they don’t hear. And you reach out and unzip my jeans, and then slip your hand in, find my cock, and pull it out. They still can’t see my cock, only the back of your head on my lap.

I stroke your hair as I continue talking to our guests. Your hand is around my cock, stroking it very slowly, and the head is only an inch or two from your lips. Sometimes you open your eyes and look at it, but usually your eyes are shut. I look down at you and smile, brush my fingers along your cheek.

“Thank you, Kitten. You’re a good girl. Suck my cock for a little while.”

Our guests are staring now, though they’re trying to pay attention to the conversation. The men can’t take their eyes off you, nor can the woman. They knew what to expect, and the reality of it obviously excites them. Your head slowly moves in my lap, in and out as you slowly slide my cock in and out of your mouth.

My hand slips into the back of your panties, and you feel me grasping your ass, holding you still, pulling you slightly toward me. You take me deeper in your mouth.

“Kitten, kneel on the floor so you can take me deeper.”

You slip off the couch and kneel between my legs, resting your arms on my thighs, and taking my cock back into your mouth. Our guests are leaning forward on the couch now, obviously completely absorbed in what you’re doing. We’ve stopped talking–no one can pay attention now. I have my hand tangled in your hair, and I’m slowly pulling your head toward me as I thrust my cock more deeply into your mouth and throat.

This goes on for several minutes, until finally I hold you still, and slowly pull your head back. I tuck my cock back into my pants–difficult, because I’m so hard–and zip up my jeans.

“Thank you, Kitten. Now stand up while I undress you, and then go kneel in the bedroom. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I unsnap your bra for you and you stand, dropping your bra as you do. I pull your panties down and you step out of them.

“Say goodnight to our guests, Kitten.”

For the first time, you look at our guests. You smile shyly, say “goodnight,” and walk to the bedroom. They watch you go, the men swallowing in their nervousness, the woman simply stunned. You go into the bedroom and close the door behind you.

I spend a few minutes thanking our guests for coming, and then see them out. I lock the door, turn out the lights, and walk to the bedroom, where I find you kneeling, waiting for your Querido, who is very proud of you.

Kitten,

I almost always want to restrain you. Sometimes I want to do it simply by telling you to be still, to stay in one place: to stand or kneel and wait for me to go to the bedroom, for example, or to lie with your head resting on my stomach and wait for me to put my cock between your lips. Sometimes your obedience is all the restraint I want.

But often, Kitten, I want to tie you up, to bind you. And there are so many ways I want to do that, and reasons for doing it. Here are just a few of them.

I want to tie your wrists behind your back and make you kneel naked before me and suck my cock while I tangle my hand in your hair and pull you to me.

I want to tie your wrists and ankles together behind your back and lay you on your stomach, and then pull your head back by your hair and slowly fuck your throat.

I want to lay you on your stomach on the cushion, and tie your ankles to the foot of the bed, your legs spread wide, with a belt around your waist holding you to the cushion, while I fuck your pussy, your ass, and your throat.

I want to tie your wrists together above your head, and hang you by your hands from a rope attached to the ceiling. I want to do that with you standing, so that I can push your legs apart and take you from behind. I want to do it with you kneeling, so that I can stand in front of you and thrust my cock into your mouth.

I want to tie your wrists together in front of you and lie on my back while you kneel between my legs and suck my cock.

I want to tie you spread-eagle on the bed, on your back, so that I can take my time kissing and licking and fucking your body.

I want to bind you with long leather strips, so that your legs and arms are completely immobilized, and then lay you on your stomach with two or three pillows beneath your hips and slowly, so incredibly slowly, slip first my fingers, and then a toy, and then my big, hard cock, deep into your ass.

I want you to be on your hands and knees on a padded bench in my bedroom, while I bind your arms and legs to the bench. And then I want to stand in front of you while you suck my cock, and then stand behind you and fuck your pussy and your ass.

I want you standing spread-eagle with your back against the wall, your hands and ankles tied to eyelets in the wall, while I press my chest against yours and kiss your lips and fuck you with my fingers, and then with my tongue, and then with my cock.

I want you to sit on the floor at the foot of my bed, your back to my bed, with a leather strap looped through the ring in your collar and tied to the foot of the bed so that you can’t stand up, while I stand in front of you and slowly fuck your throat.

And, my dear Kitten, I want you tied to me by your need and desire to submit to my domination of you, and to endlessly give yourself to me, obeying me, answering “yes, Sir” to every command, your eyes downcast, and your eagerness to please forever binding me to you.

YOUR
Querido

My Kitten,

Words are good, and necessary. I need words to tell you what to do, and to tell you what I’m going to do to you. You need words to answer, to say “yes, Sir” and “please Sir” and, very occasionally, to tell me that it’s too much. I need words to praise you, to tell you what a good girl you are, how much you please me, how much you excite me. And I need words, eventually, to calm and comfort you when I’ve pushed you too hard, or almost too hard. And I need words, little one, for some of the ways in which I tell how important and perfect you are for me.

Words are good, and necessary. But they aren’t sufficient.

I need, Kitten, hours with you. I need you warm in my arms. I need you on your knees. I need the knowledge that, for a couple of hours, at least, I have you to myself, uninterrupted, mine to command and possess.

I’ll keep sending you words. But I need more: my body needs more and, beyond that, I need more.

As for desire…

Kitten, I can hardly think straight, tonight. I feel like an animal in a man’s body. I want to devour you, to have you in every way.

YOUR
Querido

Kitten,

Usually, when I bind you, I simply tie your wrists and ankles. But today I want to do something different to you. I want to use a long thin strip of black leather, and wrap it around your legs, from ankle to mid-thigh, binding the whole length of you legs together. Not so tightly that it cuts off your circulation–I’ll always be careful about that. But tightly enough that you can’t move them at all, except to bend them at the knees.

And then your arms, Kitten. I’m going to fold your arms, your wrists crossed over your breasts, and wrap another long leather strap around your body, over and over, until you’re arms are bound against you and you can’t move at all.

And you’ll lie on the bed beside me, facing me, your forehead pressed against my side, while I slowly stroke your hair and appreciate my obedient, submissive Kitten. Until I turn toward you and rest the head of my cock on your lips, and tell you to lick and suck my cock for a little while. And you’ll do that for me, my good little Kitten.

And then I’ll turn you so that you’re facing away from me, and I’ll push your legs forward, and I’ll thrust my cock slowly into your pussy and make love to my helpless Kitten, slowly and deeply, for a long time. All very quiet, all very calm, and all completely beyond your control.

Sir

Kitten,

This sounds good to you, like an opportunity to live a fantasy? I’m glad. Because I will never tire of you kneeling before me. And however demanding I make that experience for you, however hard and fast and deep I thrust my cock down your throat, however greedy I am in satisfying this aching want of mine, Kitten, it’s just the tip of the iceberg. My wants are enormous, and outrageous, and probably insatiable. And I’m going to challenge you with them until you can’t take any more.

MY Kitten.

YOUR
Querido

Kitten,

One day, there will be a small chest in my bedroom. It will be two or three feet long, and proportioned like a shoebox. It will be black, of polished wood or, possibly, a leather covering. And it will lock, and have a small keyhole on the front.

The key will be on a cord around my neck, and will always be with me.

And after I’ve sent you to the bedroom, Kitten, and you’ve stood while I’ve told you what I want to do with you and to you, and what I want you to do for me, and after you’ve knelt obediently and pleased me with your hands and your mouth–after all that, I’ll lift you back to your feet, as I always do. And then, some days, I’ll take the key from around my neck and give it to you. And I’ll tell you what I want you to get from our chest.

You’ll go to the chest and unlock it with the key. Sometimes you’ll be dressed, still. Other times you’ll be naked, or almost so. I’ll enjoy watching you get the things I’ve told you to get.

You’ll open the chest, and inside you’ll find the things we’ve collected. There will be your wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs, of course. (Not your collar–you’ll already be wearing that, will have been since I sent you to the bedroom earlier.) There will be the vibrator we keep here, and the other toys we like. Lotions. Straps and ropes. And paddles, Kitten, things of leather and wood, things that have briefly left their mark on your bottom, your thighs. You’ll look through all these things for the items I told you to bring me. And I’ll wait for you to come to me.

And then I’ll bind you, Kitten, if that’s what we’re doing. Or I’ll lay you down on the bed and spank you. Or I’ll make you kneel while I slowly thrust a toy into your pussy or your ass. But whatever we do, I’ll enjoy knowing that you brought these things to me, that you did as you were told, knowing that I’d use these things to restrain you, to make you uncomfortable, or just to use your body for my own pleasure.

And yours. Always yours, Kitten. Because, as much as my command is your wish (a phrase of yours I like very much), so your pleasure is my wish. For it’s easy for me to control your body with force; it would be more difficult, but still possible, to break your will with fear and intimidation. But I want your willing submission, your wanton and joyful participation. I want to tell you to worship my cock and know that you’re doing it sincerely, both because my cock pleases you and because you covering it with kisses and rubbing it on your cheek and licking it and taking it deep in your mouth pleases me.

Wanton submission. That’s what I want from you, complete and enthusiastic surrender. And that’s what I get from you, Kitten.

And, truly, I can’t get enough. I think of it all through the day, look forward to my next opportunity to hold you and claim you and ravish you.

Soon. Not soon enough. But soon.

Sir

Be calm, Kitten. I’m here, as aware of you as you are of me–even more so. Imagine me as a quiet protective presence, never far away, watching you, enjoying you, waiting for the moment when I’ll step in, take you by the arm, and tell my Kitten it’s time to come home. There’s no pressure at all, today, so relax and enjoy the day.

You please me greatly.

MY Kitten.

—————————————————————————————————-

But, tonight. Tonight, Kitten, when I get you home, when you’re tired and tipsy–more than tipsy–and ready to climb into bed, exhausted from a busy day and an evening of fun and socializing, I’m going to be greedy. Because I’ve been watching you all evening, watching your slim body, watching you laugh and play and be the wonderful, gregarious, charming woman you are. And I’ve been thinking about that moment when I get you home, when you’ve had a few minutes to get comfortable, and when you’re falling into my arms, tired, just wanting to be protected and take care of.

I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you, Kitten. And I’ll protect you from everyone. Everyone except me, because there’s something I want from you, one thing you have to do for me before I pick you up and lay you into our bed and let you sleep the night away.

And so I undress you, and push you gently to your knees, and grasp your wrists behind your head with one hand, holding them against the back of your head. And you know exactly what I want, but you’re so tired and hazy that you can’t do more than tip your head back a little, your eyes closed, and open your mouth. And you do, and I slowly thrust my cock deep into your throat. And for the next little while–you don’t know how long–everything is out of control, and all you think about is my cock in your throat, about breathing when I let you and sucking when I tell you to and just obeying, just doing what you’re told.

When I come you’re so tired that you don’t get it all, and some spills out and falls on your breasts. You swallow the rest, and suck my cock slowly until I finally release your wrists and bend over, pick you up, and lay you in the bed. I pull your body against mine and pull up the covers and turn out the light, and we sleep.

MY Kitten.

YOUR
Querido

Kitten,

Soon, on one of your next few visits, after our usual rituals–my hand on your throat, my instructions to you, undressing you, you kneeling for me–I’ll lay you on the bed and touch you, excite you, devour you, and fuck your pussy. I’ll get you very wet, very worked up.

Then I’ll make you stand beside the bed, and tell you to bend over and put your hands on the bed. I’ll spread your legs. And then I’ll spank you. I’ll use a paddle. I’ll start slowly, with quick light taps to warm you up. And then I’ll spank you more seriously, hard enough to make it sting, to leave you gasping a bit. Not hard enough to make you beg me to stop, but almost.

And then, my dear Kitten, I’ll tell you to make yourself come, standing by the bed. And while you’re doing that, I’ll slowly push my cock into your ass and very slowly but very firmly fuck you until you come. And when you come, I’ll pull you down on the bed, still impaled on my cock, and slowly fuck you while you lie on your side, your wrists in my hand, your ankles between my legs. I’ll do that for a long time, until I come deep inside you.

MY Kitten.

YOUR Querido

“Now go to my room, undress, take off your bra but keep your panties on, and stand by the pillow and wait for me.”

“Yes, Sir.” I watch you walk to the bedroom, appreciating, as I always do, your trim little body as you move away from me.

I walk into my room, taking off my shirt on the way, and find you right where you’re supposed to be, eyes downcast, hands crossed obediently in front of you. I stand behind you, rest my hand lightly on your throat, and tip you back against me. I kiss you softly below your ear.

And then our routine changes, just a little.

I turn you around so you’re facing me, slip my arm around you, pull you close. You put your arms around my neck, rest your head on my shoulder, and we dance, slowly, to unheard music. And I talk to you.

“Kitten, here’s what we’re going to do, tonight. I’m going to hold you like this for a little while, breathe you in–you smell so good; you always smell so good. Enjoy your body in my arms, your warmth against my chest.”

My hand slips down to your bottom, grabs you firmly, possessively, then pulls you more tightly against me.

“And then, after I hold you, I’m going to take you to bed. I’ll make you kneel for me, of course. Always, and for a long time. But that will be later. What I want first, what I want more than anything tonight, is to lay you down in my bed, and to wrap my strong arms around you and hold you so tightly that you can’t move–tightly enough that you can breathe but you can’t move at all. And, while I’m holding you like that, your arms trapped between us, your legs held apart with mine, my weight holding you down–while I have you so restrained that all you can do is move your head from side to side, I’m going to make love to you.

“You’ll feel the head of my cock press against your pussy, feel it slowly spread your lips and just slip inside you. I’ll pause, move my cock back and forth a little to make it wet, and then push deeper into you. You’ll feel every inch, Kitten, as I slowly drive myself in and out, a little deeper with each inward thrust.

“Kitten, do you want my cock deep inside your pussy?”

It takes you a moment to answer, to realize that I’ve asked you a question. “Yes, Sir,” you say, very quietly–so quietly that, if your head weren’t on my shoulder, I might not have heard you.

“Good. I’m not going to thrust so hard that I hurt you, not tonight. But I’m going to fill you, and I’m going to make love to you with long, slow, firm thrusts, deep but not too deep for you, and it’s going to go on and on and on. Because that’s what I want tonight: your body helpless beneath mine, and my cock sliding endlessly in and out of you.

“After that, Kitten, I’ll do other things to you, things I’ll like and you’ll mostly like. Rough things, some of them. But we’re going to make love for a long time, first.”

And then I kiss your neck, and I stroke your hair, and I bend down and pick you up in my arms and carry you to bed. I strip your panties off, and then kiss your lips, and your neck, and then take one of your nipples in my mouth. My fingers gently spread your pussy as my tongue circles your nipple, and it’s several minutes before I do the things I said I’d do. But I do, and we make love for what seems like forever, your face pressed against my neck as you moan and gasp.

Kitten,

I sleep tonight wearing a shirt you gave me, in a bed that smells of us. My last waking thoughts are memories of you.

Your
Querido

Now winter sets in, and for a few dark days my arms, which ache to hold you, will remain empty. Use this time well; I’ll do the same. And the next time I hold you, Kitten, will be spectacular–even by our high standards.

How I wish we could hold on to our moments, Kitten, and make the feelings linger as vividly as do the memories. But the intensity must make that impossible. And that’s probably good: if I could completely recall the feeling I have when you drop to your knees and press your cheek so sweetly against my body before taking me in your mouth, if I could will that feeling back into existence as readily as I can visualize you, then I’d do nothing else all day.

But already it seems so long since I slowly undressed you as you stood obediently before me; since I told you to kneel and then watched as my hard cock slipped in and out of your mouth; since I tied you on your back over that big leather cushion, your legs spread wide, and gently licked and sucked your pussy. Since I came, kneeling over you, my cock thrusting fast in and out of your mouth as I held your head tight with my hand and fucked your throat.

I remember it all, Kitten, and it was all wonderful. One image I can’t get out of my mind, though, is of something that hasn’t happened yet, but will soon. That’s the image of you on your stomach on that same leather pillow, tied the same way–legs wide, arms above your head. I’ve thought of this so many times, I can see it as if it has already happened. I’ve been kneeling on the bed in front of you, my hand in your hair pulling your head up, thrusting my cock into your throat and telling you to “be a good Kitten, take it deep. That’s right, deep. Now hold it…hold it…there! Good girl, Kitten.”

I’ve been doing that, but now I want my cock in your ass, and so I move until I’m kneeling between your legs. I hold you down tightly against the cushion. I don’t ask you, or tell you what I’m going to do. But what I’m going to do is fuck your ass, deep and hard and long.

In fact, I am going to do that. And I’m not going to wait until the end of our little winter for it.

Sir

PS Want. An enormous want, stronger than sexual desire alone can explain. Your submission is intoxicating. I want to command you. I want to throw you back against the wall and take you. I want to tie you up, bending you over, and drive my cock deep into you in ever possible way. And it’s your submission to me, as much as your body, that I want so desperately.

The first time, your hands are free–you aren’t bound at all. You’re lying on my bed, on your back, naked, with a strip of black cloth tied around your head and over your eyes. No restraints, but I’ve told you to be still.

“Yes, Sir,” you answer, and then lie perfectly, obediently still. You feel the bed move as I lean down to kiss your lips; a moment later, my breath is warm against the base of your neck. Then a pause: you don’t know what’s coming next.

You shiver as my fingertips lightly touch your thigh and gently spread your legs. As I slowly, slowly draw them up the inside of your thigh, still barely making contact with your skin, you moan softly. But before my hand reaches you, you feel my lips on your left nipple, feel it sucked hard into my mouth and my tongue flicking over it.

Everything I do, Kitten, will be a surprise. You won’t know when I’ll put my hand on your throat, or brush my finger along your lips. My tongue softly circling your clitoris will be as unexpected as my cock slipped between your parted lips. And the pauses, the times when you know I’m there but don’t know where I’m looking, what I’m about to do to you, will make you nervous and excited.

But you’ll trust me, and I’ll take care of you.

You’re standing by the bed, bent over, your arms straight, your weight resting on your hands. Your legs are spread. I’m behind you. You’re naked.

When I told you to bed over, you didn’t know what I was going to do. You felt my arm tighten around your stomach and hold you against me, felt the roughness of my jeans against your ass, and my bare chest pressed against your back as I leaned forward to kiss your shoulder. And then my hand between your legs, my fingers opening you and exploring you while my arm around you held you tightly.

Your legs began to tremble then, while I was slowly thrusting my fingers into you, slowly circling your clitoris, lightly stroking you. The pressure of my palm felt good against the mound of your pussy, and was almost enough to lift you on to your toes when I thrust my fingers in and pulled you hard back against me.

When I let you go but told you to stay still, you wondered what would come next. You felt my foot roughly push your legs wider, and suddenly you felt more vulnerable, your pussy and your ass exposed to me. Then, again, my hand reaching around you and my fingers slipping into your pussy–but this time, you feel my other hand on your bottom, spreading you, and one finger slowly circling your ass, begin to enter you, and now you know what’s going to happen.

“Be still, Kitten,” I tell you again, and you gasp “yes, Sir” and grasp the sheets tightly in your hand as you feel the head of my cock pressing against your ass. I’ve never taken you this way standing up, and you’re afraid. You know I’ll be careful, but you’re still afraid.

“You remember what to say if it’s too much, too fast, Kitten?”

“Yes, Sir,” you answer. You feel my grip tighten on your hips, and then the pressure and pain of my cock entering you so slowly, so very slowly. You moan and gasp for air, feel me pause, and then my fingers dig into you again as I slowly pull you back against me, driving my cock deeper into you. My other hand is still between your legs, my fingers still in your pussy, and the slow rhythmic thrusting in and out of your pussy matches the more gentle thrusting into your ass.

Your legs begin to bend, and you feel a sharp slap across your bottom. “Keep standing, Kitten. You can’t kneel yet. You’re going to stand here until you come, with my cock deep in your ass. Understand, Kitten?”

“Yes, Sir,” you answer, but I can see that it’s hard for you to support yourself right now, and I bend my legs slightly to press them against the backs of your thighs and take a little weight off of yours. I don’t know if you notice. I won’t let you collapse. I’ll tell you to make yourself come in just a few minutes. And then I’ll let you rest.

But now I’m enjoying this too much, my fingers in your pussy and my cock sliding slowly deeper into your ass–and I’m proud of the way you’re taking it so well.

Kitten,

All day, we go in different directions, and I hold you neither often enough nor long enough. So I count the hours until we’re together again, and know that I’ll make up for lost time, for every hour my arm wasn’t around you, for every moment I wasn’t holding you tightly, laying you down, and claiming you.

Sir

My Dear Kitten,

Would knowing what to expect make you more or less apprehensive, do you think? Would it be harder not to dwell on it if you could more easily imagine what was coming?

We both say “pain and discomfort,” and certainly “pain” trips off the tongue most readily. But you have a sense of me, Kitten, and of the kind of physical domination I enjoy, and you probably understand that it has more to do with controlling your body and demanding things of you than of creating pain and discomfort for their own sake.

In fact, I don’t seek to create either pain or discomfort–though I don’t very much mind causing either. What I want to do–and what I will do–is make excessive sexual demands. That’s the way in which I want to dominate you, Kitten: I want to be unreasonable, and watch you willingly submit to my unreasonableness.

I’m already unreasonable. The last time we were together, I fucked your pussy, your ass, and your throat. You came with my cock in your mouth and in your pussy, and almost while I was in your ass. You sucked my cock while you were kneeling on the floor, on your hands and knees on the bed, on your back, on your side. I held your head in my hands and thrust so deeply you choked and gagged. And, amazingly, you took it all–every inch–into your throat, into your pussy, and into your ass–again and again.

Unreasonable is telling you to stand, almost naked, head bowed, wrists together, and wait for me to come to you. Unreasonable is tying your wrists and ankles and leaving you lying naked on the bed until I’m ready to come back and take you. Unreasonable is tying your legs to the bed posts and devouring you for as long as I want, slowly and steadily, until I finally decide to fuck you with my fingers or my cock. Unreasonable is tipping your head back and thrusting into your throat as you look up at me.

Kitten, I’ve told you that your last job, when we’re together, is to make me come, to make me come in your mouth, your pussy, your ass, or on you–but usually in your mouth. You’ve heard me tell you, when you’re tired and spent, “you’re not quite done, Kitten.” Always, that will be the last thing I demand of you, that you open your mouth for me and take me in, or wrap your fingers around my cock and stroke me until I come with your lips just inches from my cock. I’m going to teach you just how I like it, Kitten, how best to suck and stroke my cock to make me come. One day, I’ll lie back and tell you to stroke my cock and make me come, and you’ll do that: I’ll watch your hands sliding on my shaft, watch you take it deep into your throat to make me wet and slippery and then stroke it again as if you’re eager to see me come, eager to plunge me back into your mouth as I do and suck and swallow and feel me gradually soften in your mouth.

That’s unreasonable, too, that I should consider it your duty to do whatever is necessary to make me come, and to do it every time we’re together. You know I don’t come quickly, and that I’m demanding a lot of your little body to make you do that.

Oh, and calling you and telling you to have an orgasm while I talk to you is unreasonable, too.

I’m not a reasonable man, my Kitten.

Sir

Kitten,

You wrote:

Sir, I really want to feel pain and discomfort and I really want to be pushed closer to my limits. I think the question, as you said, is just how much. I look forward to you helping me find out the answer.

For my part, my dear little girl, I want to cause you pain and discomfort, and watch you submit to it willingly. I want you to surrender to it, to feel simultaneously helpless and trusting, and to get through it without saying a word that will stop it. And then I want to take away the pain, and then comfort and reassure you.

I don’t know how much pain you want, Kitten. And I don’t know how much pain I want to inflict. We’ll find out together, my dear Kitten. Perhaps we’ll be as strangely compatible in this regard as we seem to be in so many other ways. Wouldn’t that be an exciting discovery?

I can tell you, Kitten, that there’s almost no limit to my desire to shove my cock down your throat. You say that you like that, and I’m glad: you’re going to get a lot of that.

Love,
Sir

Kitten,

Your reply was lovely, my dear, and your Querido appreciates it.

I was particularly struck by the sensuality, Kitten. You related so much of our last encounter to the sensations you’re having now, the way you’re touching yourself, the tastes and scents you’re experiencing at this moment. I like this sense of your perspective, so feminine, so different from my own highly visual experience.

(Speaking of which, you really are a joy to look at, girl, whether you’re lying on my bed half covered by my sheets, or enthusiastically submitting to my most outrageous sexual demands. I remember so vividly your eyes, your hair, your lips–and how I love your lips, Kitten. Your breasts, your ass. Looking at you excites and pleases me.)

Kitten, after reading your sweet and tender words, I was briefly tempted to reconsider the tone of our next time together. But only briefly: I want your submission, and I want to know that I have it even when it’s more challenging. It’s one thing to wince but endure my cock thrusting too deeply into your pussy, or just a little too quickly into your ass. When you choke on my cock in your throat, I’m proud of the way you hardly pause before accepting my next deep thrust. You please me greatly, little one, and excite me as well, when you show me how you can take almost everything I can do to you during lovemaking, and never beg me to stop. I’m proud of my Kitten.

Next time, my dear little girl, will be different. I’ll make sure there’s time to be close, time for me to hold you and calm you and kiss you gently and tell you what a good girl you are. Time to rest, after I strain you and tire you out.

But I am going to strain you. I’ve told you part of it, how you’ll be on your stomach, your wrists and ankles tied together behind your back, while I sit on the bed in front of you and put my cock in your mouth–how I’ll tangle my fingers in your hair and lift your head with one hand, and guide my cock in with the other. I’ll be careful not to choke you too much, and to let you breathe. But I won’t be gentle, not with your throat, not with your breasts or nipples or pussy or bottom.

You’ll know, when we’re done, that I really won’t hurt you–that I can be trusted even when you’re completely helpless. And we’ll both find out, Kitten, if you really want to feel pain and discomfort, if you really want to be pushed closer to your limits–and just how much.

Love,
Sir

Kitten,

I’m thinking back to our last time together, to all the things we did and how much they pleased me. Your little body, Kitten, delights me more with each encounter. I enjoy looking at you, seeing you standing barely clothed, kneeling naked in front of me, lying on your back or your side. I like to be above you, my cock deep in your pussy or your ass.

And when I tell you–as I did recently–to give my cock all your attention, and you do it so obediently and so well, Kitten, I ache. I ache as I lie back and watch you slide down my body, watch you press your breasts against my thighs, watch your hair cascading on to me as you slowly lick the length of my shaft, and then watch you take the entire length into your throat (which still amazes me).

Last time, Kitten, I was hard on you. Not rough, but I thrust deeply and took you every way, and I’m sure you were sore for a long time afterwards. I enjoyed it all immensely, and we’ll do it all again.

But next time, my little one, will be different. It won’t be quite as physically intense–you won’t be fucked as hard–but it will probably be more demanding, and almost certainly more painful. You’ll spend a lot of it tied up, being told exactly the things I want you to do–and I’ll want you to do them just as I tell you. The last time, Kitten, was about taking you and thrusting deep into you and possessing your body. The next time will be about your will, and about your obedience, and about commanding you and reassuring you and comforting you.

I am eager now, Kitten, to put my hand on you, and to bend you, and hold you down, and make you surrender to me.

Sir

She’s standing wearing nothing but her bra and panties when he walks into the room. He walks behind her and pauses, takes off his shirt; he wants to feel her skin against his chest. She hears him but of course doesn’t turn. She knows she’s to stand quietly, her wrists crossed, her eyes down. She waits.

She feels his warmth before he touches her, knows he’s standing very close, and then his hand is on her throat, gently but with a grip she knows he’d tighten if she were to try to pull away. But this gesture, which might panic another woman, calms her–she relaxes, lets her eyes close, makes a small sigh. Her legs feel suddenly weak, as if encouraging her to drop to her knees. She doesn’t: he hasn’t yet commanded that.

He tips her head back onto his shoulder and she feels the warmth of his bare chest pressed against her back. Involuntarily she relaxes against him, slumping slightly into him, trying to draw closer. He puts his arm around her body, beneath her breasts, and holds her tightly as she relaxes even more.

She never knows what he’ll say, what he’ll tell her of his plans for her, but this time the words are familiar: he’s going to do what he wrote–make her kneel over him while he devours her. Suddenly, she feels her wetness in anticipation. She moans softly.

“Are you wet, Kitten?”

“Yes, Sir,” she answers, in a quiet, almost timid voice.

As he always does, he reaches around her and spreads her labia, dips his finger into her wetness.

“Good, Kitten. I like it when you’re wet.”

“I know, Sir,” she replies.

He turns her so that she’s facing the pillow that’s always waiting for her when she comes to his room. “Kneel, Kitten.”

She kneels. She kneels, and he puts his hand under her chin and tips her head up to face him. She tries to open her eyes and look at him, almost succeeds–and then the sound of him unzipping his pants makes her self-conscious, and she closes her eyes, would lower her face if he wasn’t still holding her. She opens her mouth, and as the head of his hard cock touches her lips, she raises her hands and presses her palms lightly against his thighs to support herself, and takes him in.

Good morning, Kitten.

Just a quick note to tell you that I am thinking of you, too.

Sir

Kitten,

I’ve said that I want you to hear my voice, and I do. I want you to hear it, and to associate it with security, with peace, and with surrender.

And I want to hear yours. I want to hear your talk, your laughter, and your quiet submission. I want to hear your moans and your sighs, your gasps and your cries.

Soon, Kitten.

Sir

[That was a beautiful reply, Kitten, but there is one thing you said that I want to correct. You said that you know a particular thing “does nothing” for me. That’s not true, not at all. Perhaps I damned it with faint praise; if so I’ll praise it more fully soon, so that you’re clear on that point. Come to me, Kitten. — Sir]

Kitten,

I’m looking forward to having hours with you, and soon. Hours during which you feel helpless, manhandled, apprehensive, eager, overwhelmed, wanton, pained, satisfied, swept away, obedient–always, obedient. Never afraid, though often nervous. Always safe, but always as if you’re in a place–my bed–where everything is beyond your control. Because it is.

Sir

… yet again.

Love,
Sir

Kitten,

This will happen soon:

I’ll lay you on the bed on your stomach, naked, and pull your wrists back and tie them behind you. And then I’ll pull your ankles back behind you and time them together–and then tie them to your wrists.

Then I’ll flip you on to your back, so that your legs and arms are pulled back behind you.

And then, Kitten, I’ll gently spread your thighs with my broad shoulders, and spend a long time–a very long time–devouring you. I’ll kiss the insides of your thighs, run my tongue along your slit, flick it gently over your clitoris, thrust it into your pussy. I’ll press my lips against you, drink you in, slide my tongue roughly over you, spread your labia and run my tongue all along you.

And it will go on and on, Kitten.

When we pause, when I stop licking and devouring your pussy, slowly, quickly, gently, firmly, my fingers sometimes slipping deep into you while my tongue circles your clitoris–when we finally pause, Kitten, I’ll stand by the bed and reach down and grab your arm near your shoulder and pull you to me, so that your head is near the edge of the bed. And I’ll stand over you, little one, and tell you to take me in your mouth. And I’ll pinch your nipples while you lie on your back and slowly suck my cock.

You’ll be uncomfortable, I know that. You’ll feeling helpless, with your arms and legs tied behind you. Eventually, if it goes on long enough–and it will–you’ll begin to ache a little. But I’ll keep going back to run my tongue along your slit, Kitten. I’ll keep taking your clitoris between my lips while my hands grip your hips tightly and my fingers leave their marks on your skin.

Eventually, after my mouth tight against your pussy has left you squirming and gasping for breath, after you’ve choked and gagged on my cock, while you’re still tied and helpless, I’ll make love to you, Kitten. I’ll kneel between your spread thighs and slowly drive my big cock into your wet, swollen, sensitive pussy–drive it in deeply, slowly at first and then faster, in long full strokes that fill you completely.

And then, Kitten, finally, I’ll lie beside you and untie you and pull you against me, and you’ll cling to me weak and shaking. And I’ll let you rest for a little while as I slowly stroke your beautiful hair and feel your body gradually settle.

Sir

Mine. Whether I’m there or not, mine. Inevitable. Insatiable.

[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

He liked sex, so much so that he often wondered if he was obsessed with it. Certainly he enjoyed the physical sensations; but more, he was attracted to the psychology of it, to the sense of power he derived from pleasing women. He remembered once observing to a woman–she was thirty-five, ten years older than he and the only older lover he’s ever had–that women seemed to become helplessly swept away in climax. That helplessness, the woman’s surrender to the intensity of sensation, became for him one of the great attractions of sex.

As his experience grew he developed strong preferences–chief among them a powerful desire for oral sex: this became an essential part of sex for him, the woman taking him into her mouth while he watched her. He understood that the watching was crucial, was a necessary part of the experience. With that understanding he came to realize that the psychological aspect of sex was, for him, the greater part, that for him sex was about power and control, and that taking a woman–for “taking” was the word that came to his mind when he thought of the act of lovemaking–was not only an affectionate and intimate act, but an aggressive one as well.

He was generally comfortable with this self-knowledge–he was a man generally comfortable with himself–but also aware that it might hint at something darker in himself, perhaps at some imperfectly suppressed desire to take a woman by force, to possess her against her will. Yet her willingness was important to him: he wanted the aggression, even something bordering on violence; but he needed her willingness as well, her eagerness. He wondered about this tension, this balancing of his desire to demand, and his desire that a woman willingly give herself to him.

And then he met a woman whose need to submit was as great as his desire to dominate, and suddenly the dark places inside him were illuminated.

Now I know what I want.

And, Kitten, today was what I want. All of it, all the excess, all the attention. I want my cock that far down your throat, even though you choke and gag. I want you to worship my cock, to hold it and lick the length of it and press it to your face. I want you to beg me to let you put it in your mouth.

I want you to come, gasping, shaking, almost collapsing, while I slowly thrust my cock in and out of your ass and cradle your head on my arm and hold you against me. I want you to writhe and moan, wrists bound, ankle tied to the bed, as my tongue spreads your pussy lips and circles your clitoris and spends a long time there.

And I want to hear your moans as you kneel with my cock in your mouth, want to feel that wanton submission, that desire to please that’s so intense that you get wet just thinking of how much I enjoy your mouth, your throat, and the sight of my hard shaft sliding into you.

And then I want you, still submissive, still eager to please me in whatever way I demand, to curl up against me, to mold yourself to me, and to rest securely in my arms, your head tucked into my neck, your still-quivering body weak and helpless and safe beside me.

I want today. Again. Soon.

Kitten, you please me.

Love,
Sir

(Kitten, I did receive, and enjoy, your most recent comments. Love, Sir)

It is a thing in itself, the domination, and not merely an aspect of the sex. I’ve always been a physically assertive lover, but this desire–this need–to command you, Kitten, is unexpected. I find myself thinking of it as vividly as I do you kneeling before me, anticipating it as eagerly as I do holding your naked body down on the bed. I look forward to standing behind you, my hand resting lightly on your throat, and telling you, in calm, matter-of-fact tones, what I intend to do with you today–and hearing your soft and respectful “yes, Sir” in reply.

And there is a world of things unexplored, Kitten. I’ve barely spanked you–much more will follow. I’ve hardly bound you, only your wrists and ankles, only lying on the bed or kneeling, as today, in front of me with your wrists bound. I’ve yet to leave you lying bound and naked beside me while I work or read or drink my coffee and appreciate the curves of your helpless body.

Helpless. That’s a word I use often, and it’s what I want: I want you helpless. I want you to wonder what will happen next, wonder what I’ll demand of you, do to you, make you do for me–and know that there’s really nothing you can do about it, because you’re my submissive and obedient girl.

I have a quiet daydream, one I’ve shared with you already but I’ll say it again. I imagine sitting in my living room, entertaining guests–another couple, perhaps, or two or three men–and you kneeling, naked or barely clothed, on the carpet beside my chair, your wrists bound together in front of you, your bound ankles tucked under you. Your dark beautiful hair is streaming down around your shoulders and over your breasts, and I reach down from time to time and run my fingers through it, sometimes move it aside so I can see your face or your breasts more clearly. I run my hand along your neck, and you press your cheek against it, your eyes closed. And all the while I talk to my guests about other things. The men can’t take their eyes off of you, but they try to pretend not to notice: I can see the envy in their eyes. They can only imagine what will happen when they leave, how I’ll carry you to the bedroom and gently but firmly demand from you such acts of sexual attention and devotion.

And they can’t imagine, they can’t possibly imagine, the effect her submission has on me when my kitten gives me everything I want, beautifully and eagerly and wantonly and willingly.

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

Kitten,

It’s been a busy day and we’ve been apart–and will be late into the evening. And I’ve missed you, Kitten.

Days like this, when you’re endlessly in my thoughts but not at all in my presence, I fill with any number of small fantasies–fantasies that change throughout the day. Earlier, it was as I described below: you naked, kneeling, waiting obediently for me to tilt your head back and tell you to take me in your mouth.

But now a different fantasy occupies my mind, little one. You’re not kneeling, but sitting on a big comfortable cushion on the floor near my chair. Your legs are tucked beneath you. You’re dressed, comfortable and warm, but in something that shows me the shape of this body I love so much.

Your wrists are tied together, firmly but comfortably, in front of you, and rest on your lap. Your ankles are tied together also–again, firmly but comfortably.

And you sit, quietly, while I work. Almost without thinking, my hand drops down to your shoulder, brushes the hair from the back of your neck and caresses you. I pause, look at you, appreciating my Kitten waiting so patiently for me. My fingers stroke your cheek, follow the line of your jaw. I consider stopping my work and taking you to bed now, but I have to finish this, another little while yet. So I stroke your hair with my hand, smile, and turn back to my work. And you lean toward me, rest your head against my knee, and watch me, knowing that soon I’ll lift you up, and carry you to bed, and have my way with you, as I always do.

MY Kitten.

Sir

Kitten, all I can see today is you kneeling naked before me, sitting on your feet, your wrists crossed in front of you and resting on your legs, your eyes cast down. Quiet, obedient, submissive. Waiting for me to tell you what to do.

I have acquired a new and valuable possession. Soon, I’m going to take time to examine it, appreciate it, and learn some of its intricacies.

Kitten, what this means for you is that you’re going to spend a lot of time lying naked in bed, on your back with your hands tied behind you, while I explore you with my hands and my mouth.

Of course, that isn’t all we’ll do. I’m going to come deep inside you, too.

Come to me, Kitten.

Speechless, Kitten? Then just purr for me. You purr beautifully, my Kitten.

Sir

Kitten,

You please me. You please me greatly.

MY Kitten.

Sir

Kitten,

When we’re alone, usually I’m going to bind your wrists together. Even if we have only a few minutes; even if we’re just talking.

Love,
Sir

Kitten, we talked recently and I told you what I was going to do with you. Do you remember? It came to me as naturally as breathing, the things I wanted to do with you and to you. The things I’m going to do with you and to you. Not all at once–I want too much for that. But all of it, eventually.

And you should know, Kitten, that it really is all out of your hands now. All of it. You don’t have to think about it, or wonder, or decide. You just have to wait until I call you to me.

I’m going to take your body and do everything I want with it. I’m going to call you, and you’ll come to me.

And I’m going to possess you, consume you, use you.

Again and again.

Come in your mouth, your pussy, your ass.

Come on your face and on your breasts.

Your back.

I’m going to pull your head back while I fuck you from behind.

I’m going to tie you down and take you every way.

I’m going to tie you up and leave you lying one the bed while I sit beside you and read.

I’m going to make you suck my cock while I talk on the phone.

I’m going to make you kneel–over and over, again and again, I’m going to make you kneel.

And look at me as I come in your mouth.

Sometimes I’ll say “Kitten, open your mouth.”

And then I’ll come with my cock barely in it, filling your mouth as I watch.

And I’m going to come with my cock deep in your pussy, holding you down with my body, one arm behind you and two fingers in your ass.

I’m going to spank you. I’m going to choke you with my cock.

I’m going to make you beg me to fuck your ass.

I’m going to make you tell me that you want me to come on your face.

I’m going to pinch your nipples, hard.

I’m going to lightly slap your face. I’m going to firmly take your chin and tilt your head this way and that.

I’m going to roughly throw you down on the bed and tell you to be still while I slowly unfasten my belt and unzip my pants, and you wonder what I’m going to do with my cock, whether it will go into your ass or your pussy, or whether I’ll grab your arm and flip you over and make you lie with your head hanging off the bed while I fuck your throat.

———————-

I’m going to dominate and possess you. You’ll always have to wonder if I’m going to come and claim you again. And I will.

And I’ll demand every imaginable sexual pleasure from you.

As if it were my right to simply tell you to do it.

And you will.

And you’ll be my submissive Kitten.

Sir

Kitten,

Yes, I’m going to call you to me, and soon.

But the holidays are upon us. And the things I want to do to you, the intensity of it, the way it will change us both…. I realize now that this can’t happen until the new year. As hard as it is for me to resist, it’s become obvious to me that we need the time and the space to focus on it.

After the new year, very soon after the new year, I’m going to call you to me. And then I’m going to take you, and break you, and claim you.

Now, breathe a little more easily. For a little while longer, we’ll have only words. But we’ll have a great many words, my dear kitten.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll describe all the kinds of things I want to do with you. I’ll describe the firmness of my hand as it grasps your arm and pulls you roughly to me. I’ll describe the hard pressure of my tongue on your nipples. I’ll describe the head of my cock spreading your labia and opening you more than you’ve been opened before. I’ll describe how you’ll lie on your back with my hand on your throat holding you down, firmly but not too roughly, as I slowly thrust my cock into your ass. And I’ll describe you kneeling on a padded bench, your ankles and wrists bound to it, while I stand in front of you and thrust my cock slowly in and out of your throat–a leather strap in my hand ready to lightly (but not too lightly) slap your bottom if you don’t make a real effort to swallow my cock. I’ll tell you about those things. And you know, my good little girl, that I never write fiction.

Love,
Sir

Kitten, I want you to hear my voice, and so I’ve brought back all the words.

When we’re together I’ll speak calmly, clearly, firmly–often with a gentle tone, rarely a stern one (and then only when you aren’t trying hard enough). All the questions I ask you will have the same answer. (You know the answer, kitten, the two words I always want to hear from you.)

Yes, I want you to hear my voice. And soon you will, my good little girl, when I call you to me.

Kitten,

I’m still here, always here.

And you’re still both necessary and inevitable. That’s what makes it possible to wait.

So we’ll wait, for a little while at least. And when that becomes unbearable–and it will–then we’ll stop waiting. Then I’ll stop waiting, and I’ll have you.

Completely. Utterly. Relentlessly. Lovingly. Fiercely.

Love,
Sir

(Kitten, I have thought of you all day, found myself pacing as I remembered our last time together. I feel aggressive today, demanding, and it is only the need to protect you that has kept me in check–and that, barely. This is a good day for you to be strong, and I am proud of you. — Love, Sir.)

Kitten,

My good, obedient little girl, I’m taking my hand off of you–but keeping it near, and still watching you. You’re still my kitten. You’re still under my protection. I still possess you. But I’ll be in the background of your life for a little while–a comforting certainty, an oasis, and an inevitable future. But not a constant daily presence.

Turn away from me now, for a time.

All our words are still here, but I’ve hidden them until you’re ready to have them again.

You may reach out to me at any time, in any way, and I’ll be here. Because you are, and always will be, mine. And you please me greatly, little one.

Love,
Sir

Natural, “like a key in a lock,” you said, and that was a particularly apt analogy, kitten. Yes, it is very natural, the way we fit together. I want to dominate and command you, defend and protect you, ravish and use you. And you, kitten, want to be told what to do, want to be put in difficult situations for my pleasure, want to be made uncomfortable for my pleasure, pushed beyond your limits for my pleasure: everything, it seems, for my pleasure.

And that makes you perfect for me, and pleases me greatly.

Soon, little girl, I’m going to undress you and again lay you down in my bed. I’m going to tie your wrists together behind your back, and then lie back in bed while you kneel beside me and take my cock in your mouth. I’ll hold my cock for you, and tangle my fingers in your hair to pull you down as I thrust into your throat. It will be hard for you, kitten, but I’ll make sure you don’t choke too much.

Then, after you’ve worked so hard at that, and taken me so many times into your mouth and throat, I’ll kneel behind you. You’ll rest your shoulders on the bed, turn your head so your cheek is pressed against the sheets. And I’ll take you from behind, kitten, slowly driving my big hard cock into your pussy. I’ll hold your hips, my fingers digging into you, and pull you back, hard, against me with each deep hard thrust.

Finally, dear little one, after I come deep in you, I’ll untie your wrists and let you lie down and rest your head on my stomach for awhile, as you slowly lick and suck my cock and I run my hands over you. And I’ll tell you what a good girl you are, and how pleased I am with you. And it will all be true.

(I’m here, kitten. Relax, be still. I’m always here.)

And not only here but, as I’ll tell you when we speak, thinking of you. Thinking, all day, of commanding and comforting, of taking you and of protecting you.

Commanding and comforting in roughly equal measure, kitten. Holding you down, and lifting you up. Restraining you, and freeing you. Challenging you, and restoring you. Dominating, always, but sometimes gentle.

Don’t doubt, not even for a moment, that I’m aware of my kitten. MY kitten.

Mine.

Quiet, protective, gentle. And, still, always here. And, still, inevitable.

I’ll leave you with this, for now:

I told you what I’m going to do, the next time I have you in my big white bed. This is what I’m looking forward to doing, more than anything else.

It will be after I’ve done other things to you, made you cry out, been a little rough with you, and used your body pretty aggressively.

And it will be after you’ve pleased me very much.

I am going to sit up against the pillows, and put my arms around your shoulders and under your legs, and curl your body into a little ball in my arms, and hold you on my lap and against my chest, and have you rest your head on my shoulder, and be very quiet with you.

And, in fact, I’m doing that now, and will be until further notice. So be still, kitten.

My big white bed is more empty than it has been since I bought it. And, when I think of you kneeling beside it….

Show me your obsessive streak, kitten. I’ll show you mine.

And now, girl, there will be a brief pause in the writing, nothing more here until I’ve looked into your eyes again, caught your wrists, and heard you say “yes, sir,” and watched you look down in submission as I take small liberties with your body.

How much do you remember of that first night, girl? I remember it well. I remember every inch of your body as it revealed itself to me, as I brushed my lips along the curve of your hip, as my hands explored you. I remember your first orgasm, how hard you tried not to move when I told you to be still, and the muffled cry of surprise and pain as you buried your face in the pillow at my palm’s sharp contact with your bottom.

Do you remember the kisses? Do you remember my lips softly touching you, from the back of your neck, your shoulder, moving slowly down your back to your waist? Do you remember how gently it began, how different it was from the businesslike way in which I had undressed you and bound you?

Did you have any idea, then, how long the night would be, and what demands I’d make of you and your body? Did you notice, my dear girl, how I would be gentle with you before doing something hard to you? If you noticed, did you begin to worry when I was especially gentle with you, when I spent so much time calming you, soothing you?

And do you remember how many times you cried that night? How, each time, before it began, I’d kiss you gently on the face and remind you of our word, and that you could always say it? Little girl, you’ve no idea how pride welled up in me each time you bit your lip and quickly shook your head, how pleased I was by your desire to submit, by your refusal to escape. In those moments, I wanted to untie you and crush you against me and let you sleep the night held captive in my strong arms.

In fact, we got to that, but it was much later.

Your nipples. Girl, did you ever imagine that I would be so obsessed with your breasts and, in particular, with your nipples? That I’d take such pleasure in gently brushing my lips across them, in roughly lashing my tongue hard around them? That I’d delight in pinching them, making you gasp and squirm? Or that, by the end of the night, they’d be so swollen and sore, so sensitive, and that you’d feel for days the abuse to which I’d subjected them? Now, thinking of it, I want to hold you down and feel your body shuddering beneath me as I roughly manhandle and devour your soft warm breasts and your perfect nipples.

Much later. Long before I held you quietly in my arms, long before I let you sleep the few hours that remained of that first night, long before that, dear girl, I did so much to you. How much do you remember?

You remember how gentle it all seemed while you were still bound, how easy it was for you to lie there as I touched you all over, ran my hands flat along your skin, opened you and brushed my fingertips lightly along your labia, your clitoris, and dipped just slightly into you. You remember how gently I fingered your ass, how careful I was as my finger slipped inside you–deeply, but so slowly that your fear quickly subsided. And you remember how often I paused to kiss your neck, to breathe lightly on you as I kissed your ear, and to murmur “good girl” when you were so still and quiet. Surely you remember those things?

But did you guess, girl, how hard I’d thrust my cock into your throat? How forceful I’d be, how you’d choke and gag as I held your head against me and my cock filled you? Did you guess, as the tears came to your eyes and you coughed and gasped, that I’d demand so much of you, again and again, and that you’d spend so much time on your knees or on your side while I fucked your throat so roughly?  Do you know, now, how much of my sense of possession of you comes from that, from your willingness to choke on my cock, to drop to your knees and beg me to thrust it down your throat? I warned you of that obsession. Did you believe me?

When, finally, I unfastened your wrists and ankles and rolled you on to your back, do you remember how gentle I was with you? Do you remember how I kissed your arms, softly massaged the redness from your wrists? How I knelt between your legs and kissed your face, and your throat, and slowly, gently worked my way to your breasts? Do you remember your hands on my shoulders, my muscles tight as I knelt above you and buried my face between your breasts?

Do you remember that, and then what followed? That last long lingering kiss on your lips, the gentleness in my eyes as I looked into yours, the small smile–before I took possession of you, claimed you, fucked you fast and deep and hard, and made your body mine?

I remember it all.

Girl, do you ache right now? Do you ache as much as I do? Answer me, now, by text. Two words; you know what I want to hear.

I will always dominate you. It’s my nature, just as it’s yours to surrender to it. It’s an authority I simply assume: I’ll take you, you’ll yield to me, and I’ll treat you like the obedient and submissive girl you are–I’ll protect you, command you, enjoy you. I couldn’t not dominate you. I wouldn’t know how.

I will always dominate you.

Occasionally, I’ll throw you around and treat you roughly.

I move quickly, crossing the room to where you stand at the bed, before you have a chance to speak. I put my arm around you and pull you hard against me, bending you backwards as I press my chest against yours. My hand goes to the back of your neck, as always, but I hold you too tightly, kiss you too hard. I push you back farther, until you feel my leg between yours, your pussy pressed against my thigh as I tip you back. The pressure there feels good, as does the sense of being swept off your feet. But you know what it’s like when I get this way, when I’m feeling particularly aggressive, and you feel a moment of fear–and anticipation.

I pull you back up and spin you around so that you’re facing the bed. With one hand on your neck and another on your waist, I push you roughly forward and you fall across the bed, lying on your stomach. I’m not holding you now, but you know better than to try to move–the last time you did, I grabbed your ankle and yanked you roughly toward me, until you were sitting on the floor with your back against the bed, and then I fucked your throat, making you choke and gag for what seemed like forever.

So you lie still, waiting.

In a moment I’m kneeling on the bed beside you. My hand grasps your upper arm and I pull you up, rolling you on to your back. You look up at me as I lean over you, and you see the lust in my eyes, the want, the hunger. I’m breathing hard, and you know it isn’t from exertion–I can throw you around all night without tiring. My body is tense, my muscles tight; you can feel how close I am to exploding, and you lie still, breathing slowly, only your eyes moving as you watch me.

You’re lying on the bed beneath me, vulnerable, and I want to ravish you. I want to tear off your clothes, to hear the fabric rip as I yank roughly at it. I want to grab your naked breasts and squeeze them hard, and pinch your nipples. I want to slip my fingers into your hair and pull your head back, press my lips against your neck, grind my palm crudely against your pussy as my lips slide down your body to your breasts. I want to make you cry out with pain as my hand closes tightly on your inner thigh, as I shove your legs apart and plunge two fingers hard into your pussy.

I want to choke you with my cock. I want to fuck your ass until you scream. I want to bend you over and take you from behind, spanking you hard until you’re crying even as I’m slamming my cock deep into you. I want to shove you forward against the wall, hold you there with my forearm across your back, and fuck you so hard I almost lift you off the ground with each thrust.

I want to throw you on to your back and fall on top of you, plunging my cock deep into you; then flip you over, my cock still in you, and drive you into the mattress with my body, slam you forward with each thrust.

You sense all this. You don’t see my raw need often, but you know it’s real, and you know you’re seconds away from being taken roughly, painfully, from being tossed about, grabbed hard, maybe bruised. And you know there’s nothing you can do, nothing except say our safe word–but you’ve never done that, and you know you won’t, not for this.

I reach down and unfasten your pants, yank them roughly down your thighs. Then I flip you over, quickly, and hold you down with a hand on the small of your back. You hear me undoing my belt, unzipping my pants. You know you’re about to be taken, but you aren’t sure how: you hope it isn’t your ass, not now, not when I’m this aggressive. But then I’m behind you, my arm reaching around you and my hand between your legs opening your pussy to me, and you feel my cock thrust into you. And now you know it will be okay, and you moan as my cock sinks deep into you, and you grip the sheets tightly and press your cheek against the bed and hold on as I slam myself into you.

When I come, I push so hard into you that it hurts, that you can hardly breathe, and I hold myself tight against you, and you can feel my cock throbbing and pulsing  inside you. Then, slowly, my body settles on you, and you enjoy the feeling of my weight holding you down, and you know that I’ll be gentle now, and hold you close, and take care of you, and that I won’t be dangerous again for a long time.

It’s late. I laid you across my lap and spanked you tonight–you needed the reassurance of being possessed and subdued. And you needed the lovemaking that followed the tears, the exhausting intensity of it, and the orgasms that finally came. You’re sore, tender, swollen, but now you’re calm, lying naked beside me. You’re on your side, your head resting on my shoulder, your breasts pressed against me. You have one arm across my chest, and one leg across mine. My arm is around you, my hand on the small of your back, holding you. My other hand brushes your hair gently back from your face, and caresses your neck.

We have the night together and we’ll sleep well: we’re both exhausted. In the morning, I’ll wake you as I enter you, and we’ll make love one more time, slowly and gently, my arms holding you tightly against me, my good little girl moaning softly against my chest.

It begins with my fingers slipping into your hair and closing on the back of your neck. Always it begins this way, with my fingers caressing your neck, firmly but not tightly, demanding nothing–not yet.

And always your response is the same: you slow, you calm. Your eyes close or grow unfocused, dreamy. Your face relaxes. Your lips part slightly but you don’t speak: you’ve lost your voice.

(And your heart, girl, does it beat faster? Does your breath catch? And do you feel your body respond, stirring with the promise of your surrender?)

What you don’t know, because I barely betray it, is the effect your sudden submissiveness has on me–has instantly, has every time I see it. Girl, you don’t know what forces you awaken in me, what tension your obedience creates. Aggression wells up in me, violence, a primal explosive need to possess you, to throw you down and tear your clothes from your body and ravish you. To claim you, mark you, brand you with the heat of my flesh.

I respond to your submission with an intensity your defiance could never inspire. You have more power, in your submission, than you can possibly have in any other way.

I can control myself–I have to, if I’m to control you, and my desire to control you is profound. But you are closer, in that moment of transition, to being taken suddenly and forcefully, than you can imagine.