He calls me kitten and like any good kitten, I don his collar. The brightest of pink. Almost humiliatingly pink. There is no mistaking, I am a girl, his girl, his princess, his little kitten. On this collar, he’s attached a small bell. He likes to hear it.
It isn’t the sound it makes, the gentle occasional jingle, as I sleep on the large pillow at his feet, that he loves most.
It isn’t the way it jingles and thuds against my water dish as I lap at the cool liquid, that he loves most.
Nor is it the muffled sound it makes as he holds it in his hand while wiping the food away I have carelessly dipped it into.
It’s not the way it jingles as I move from room to room. Or how it catches the light as I crawl on all fours, that he loves most.
No, it’s the constant jingling it makes as he pushes me down to my elbows, my ass in the air, his fingers digging into my plump flesh while his cock thrusts into me over and over again, that he loves most. Feeling the searing heat of my womb as he plunges his erection into me repeatedly as that little, innocent jingle rings through the air. It’s the tightening of his grip around my throat as my moans interrupt his ability to hear my bell, that makes him even harder. He loves it. He loves pounding into me from behind, forcing the breath out of my body, making my breasts sway and always, hearing that melodic chime.
Nothing makes him harder than fucking me while wearing my kitten bell, except of course, of it’s faint, little jingle traveling down the hall and into his ear, as another man fucks me.
© Secret Desire