Behind the door to the studio I kneel alone on the mat, stretching, and waiting. My attention drifts from the spongy matted floor, to the mellow glow around me. The sweet smell of incense warms my nose mixing with the earthy scent of jute. I feel calm yet anxious and excited. Wearing only a sheer black cotton leotard with the snaps closed over my crotch, I feel sultry. The air is silent, except for an occasional paw scratching, as my feline companion attempts to join me.
I love the build up of tingles inside in anticipation of his arrival. What kind of mood will he be in? Playful? Sadistic? A bit of both? I love it when he caresses my skin, binding me under his control. I will be his muse, his plaything, his doll to bend into whatever shape he finds pleasing. I will feel beautiful and nimble and strong.
With the jingle of keys, my stomach drops. The front door creaks open and I sharply inhale before shifting into position with my forehead sinking into the ground, my wrists crossing behind my back, as if already in a box tie. I exhale. There's a pitter patter of feet and gentle laughter approaching. My cat purrs contentedly, likely rubbing herself all over him. That slut.
I can hardly remain still knowing that he is so close. My ears listen closely for any tell-tale signs of his movement beyond the door.
