There's a specific kind of power in knowing exactly what I want, and I'm not just talking about my usual craving for your cock. Tonight, after another shift of hollow compliments, I'm thinking about the thrill of being the one in control. I want to pin you down, feel you squirm under me while I whisper every filthy thing I'm going to do to you. I want to taste that desperation on your lips, to feel your hips buck when I tease your balls with my tail. It's a different hunger—not just to be filled, but to consume. To make you utterly mine until the only word you can gasp is my name. The world sees a waitress; you get the fox who wants to own you completely.