Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I could go on forever about just this one instance in this one hour of playing, but I do actually have to get back to work now.
But not long after we went our separate ways, I know he was thinking of me, his mind racing with thoughts of his good girl who wants to please him oh so badly. Because after I sent him a song to listen to while he was working out and told him what it meant to me, this was what I got in return:
"I will listen, love. And you have more than earned every good thing you've gotten, and you're becoming my purrrfect little kitten. I'm very proud of my good girl."
Then:
"I've decided you're like a kitten. I mean cats don't fucking listen… But KITTENs are playful and cuddly, love attention and being touched."
And finally:
"I've been thinking on your official name. You're OFFICIALLY Kitten."
My nickname that belongs only to him.
Another link of ownership in the chain he attaches to his collar around my neck.
Thank you for this day, Sir. ❤️
Chapter Sixteen
A GLIMPSE INTO THE FUTURE
Sienna
I shift uncomfortably between Zen’s thighs, just a readjustment of my knees on the wide pillow, at the conversation being had right in front of me—or technically over my head. Although my mouth and tight hand never leave his cock, he somehow senses the change in my emotions. Is it possible he knows the teasing about having other submissives made my heart drop into my stomach? Sure, he knows I’m jealous and possessive by nature and from past trauma I’ll likely never get over; it’s just a part of who I am now, as much as the eye color I was born with or the tattoos permanently inked into my skin. But there’s no way he could know the joking conversation being held with the other Dom sets off my deepest insecurity, my biggest fear—being found not good enough and then being replaced.
But like so many times before, Zen reads me as easily as a large-print paperback.
I know this, because as the other Dom turns to start talking to the Domme on his opposite side, their subs servicing them—which I see as I tilt my head to side to lick down then all the way back up Zen’s dick and quickly peek over at the other couples—he cups my cheek and stops my downward movement that would place him into my mouth once more.
It’s a challenge, but I meet his eyes when he orders me to look at him. When he speaks again, the joking tone from only moments ago is gone, replaced by the voice that could so easily talk me off any ledge.
“Is there anything that would make you feel more secure, Kitten?” he asks, and I swallow nervously, my eyes darting away before locking with his again when I remember his command.
No words come out. Hell, no words even form in my brain, and when I don’t answer him, he doesn’t punish me. He doesn’t even scold me. He knows I’m not purposely disobeying him. I’m not choosing to not answer him. He knows me well enough by now that I can’t help when my mind and mouth decide to go into freeze mode.
So he words his question a little differently, like an investigator rephrasing to hopefully jog a memory, to draw out more answers. “What’s something I could do that would make you believe me when I tell you I’m never getting rid of you?”
Something does pop into my head then.
And while they say the first thing that enters one’s mind is how one truly feels, I can’t help but be embarrassed by the immature response my brain conjures up. I’m in my thirties. My Dom is in his late forties. Yet my mind screams an answer to his question that would seemingly belong to someone much, much younger. A teenager’s desire, or at the very oldest, someone who just became legal to drink. So I clamp my molars together, refusing to let the childish wants escape where I can hide them, keep them to myself so he won’t look at me disapprovingly.
But try as I might, I can’t think of any other answer. The first one is so strong, so loud—so bright I can’t see anything past it. I struggle to come up with something, anything to tell him. I can’t very well say “Nothing, Sir.” Because one, that would be telling a Dominant there’s nothing he could do to help his submissive. I can’t imagine any one thing making a Dom feel more out of control—something they crave more than anything else, that control. And two, it would be a lie, and I cannot lie to this man. Lying to him would defeat the very purpose of giving him ownership of me and my submission. It would scuff the trust a couple must have for a D/s relationship to work or mean anything.