Dressed in my latex catsuit, Hunter boots and red Rukka mack, I'm preparing to have a difficult conversation with you. Naturally, you're kneeling at my feet, cleaning my boots with your tongue - this conversation doesn't require your input. You see, although you're my rubber slave, our relationship still feels too equal to me. Why have I been letting you sit at the table for meals? I'm fixing that - I've ordered a doggy bowl for you to eat out of, and I've had your new name engraved on it too. That name is 'Bitch'.