It started, as I suppose things like this often do, with Halloween.

That little shop on that narrow, oppressive street. The odd things in the display cases and the shabby appearance of the window. The way the shopkeeper cackled when we made our purchase. But we had short notice for the costume ball, and you were insistent on getting a nice cat mask. And it was! Not a realistic mask, mind you, but a rather lovely Mardi Gras vizer. Something to hang on the wall after the party was over. Black as night, adorned with golden stars and peculiar symbols, the eyeholes tilted in a wicked cast to give your eyes that proper sultry look.

It didn't explain how you behaved, though -- slinking around the party, prowling on all fours -- that skintight black velvet bodysuit showing you off in ways that made me both hot and uncomfortable -- curling up in one lap after the other.

"I guess you really do need this," I said, forcing a laugh as I slipped the faux diamond collar around your throat. The shopkeeper had thrown it in, saying it might come in handy. And how wonderfully obedient you were the rest of the night!

And how incredible it felt when you purred when we got home, body thrumming with a delicious, animal vibration as you arched against me like a cat in heat.

It was weeks before you asked to wear the mask again, and I agreed without hesitation ... but how soon a little game became a need, and soon something much darker, and much more obsessive ...

[Just a starting point! Looking for someone who enjoys slow burns, shifting mental perspectives, petplay, and eventual physical transformations...]