Dear Sir,
My inhibitions no longer swirl, your dominant hands grasping my nape-created pleasure of pain embracing that four letter word.
My mind, body, and soul are no longer unreceptive to crossing a certain line; chaotic, quieted down by embracing that four letter word.
My essence no longer unheard or unseen bound, gagged, and blindfolded; pleasing you on bended knees, reincarnating of ownership recaged and rekeyed embracing that four letter word.
My skin can no longer be called my own, marked by your hands, a reminder of now pleasure by the pain embracing that four letter word.
My sexuality is no longer unhydrated, nourished by a tongue devouring my inner thighs embracing that four letter word.
My feral ways are no longer uncollared, unleashed, and uncaged, embracing that four letter word.
Your ownership is ecstasy.
-Kitten
P.S. I’ll be in my cage, until you take me out to play.
