The thin band of leather that supports me hangs over the smallest possible nail. The blackness of that band makes my nail stand out as almost delicate. I hang fully stretched, against a wall, with my tail just unable to touch the floor. If I could curl it back into a tight semi-circle, I would. It is not that I am tired - I am oh so ready to be used - it is that I need the touch of his hand, the drive of his extraordinary will, to allow me the pleasures.

The beasts that I can be, the black pantheress, the attacking tigress, can all scent. Right now, I smell need in the room. Her need for him. Her need for me. I can scent the way she anticipates my bite. She is my prey and she knows it. My beasts know vision. The hawk in my belly screams as it looks to dive into her beckoning skin. I am one long talon, streaking down to her sex, as we both watch, at full speed. I shall be the craving, the desire and the deliverance.

Now, patiently, I hang by this thin braid of leather, suspended by my nail, awaiting his want, knowing he will soon be inhaling my skin, and watching me as I capture her for him.

His hand is on my throat. I yield the nail for his strength and accuracy. He runs me through his hand, my entire length. Every slight twist, each weaving memory, feeling my gentle taper and starting the re-acquaintance of his drive and my coiling and uncoiling. There is no delirium yet. There is only simmering intent. I am both the hawk awaiting the command to fly and the snake ready to strike the same prey. She knows. The hawk sees her shudder. Now she hears the panther, in all its darker than blackness, hiss as I pass her ear, circling, becoming his range, his accuracy.

I feel his waves. I am an undulation. He has made me liquid and flowing. Shall I be salt water in the wound or soothing balm? I marvel at my own consistency. I am water thrown in suspended motion. Yet when I touch her, she will cry out, for I will hit focused and as finely tuned as a spray of birch. She will accept me hard, and cutting, and I will delight in that cutting. I will revel as I commit entrance, as her Master will commit when I am done. When he is done with me. Together we make her wait.

All my senses are tight. I am as well shaped as any arrow, as sure of my flight as my archer is of his own identity. I bark in her ear. I crack and roar by the small of her back. I explode with impending, withering, force. The three of us, we all wish to make her buckle, to have her fold evenly at her knees. I want to spread her skin. I want to leave my trail of red and blue passions on her back and she wants that to be the map of her soul for him to see. I show desire the pathway to possessing her.

I feel the delicacy in his palm. It is a relaxation. I am held all the more loosely, but I know it is now that he has the most complete control over my form, and my intent. My intent is to strike as he wishes me to strike. I crave the openings he will make. I seek the partings of her flesh. I feel his change in direction; it is a wind that tosses me towards her. She feels my vapor. Her breathe draws in with force enough to alter my course. Finally he affords us the connection. My blackness lashes out to her. I am quick. I enter her flesh, her heart, her soul and I embrace all her memories and then I am gone, leaving her to incarcerate all the pain she can. She locks it in the most remote and treasured cell she can find. Oh, she does not wish to part with our short moment. She wants a tower, a pyramid, of intensity, and I know I will be allowed this vagary. I am now all speed and restraint. I electrify her with my sudden touch and disappearance. I am held back by his hand on my throat, and then again I bark and bite her flesh and he at last allows me to penetrate her from the small of her curvature to the back of her knees and she goes slowly down to the ground, longing desperately for both my return and for my abeyance.

The pantheress has fed, the snake has struck, the talon has left its mark. His hand has left me now for her. He gently touches the paths we have created. He reads the ways they prevail upon all her direction. She is looking at me through what I have done to her, and I bask in her adoration. When he is done with what I have already completed, he shall take me in his palm again. He shall clean me and coil me. It will be his caress to me. Then knowing I am his and his alone, he will hang me once again on the thin nail. I will lie against the wall, and my tail will once again be unable to touch the floor.