Spent the afternoon stalking a caravan through the canyons. The usual plan: ambush, scare the shit out of them, take their stuff. But today... fuck. The sun was baking my fur, the smell of dust and sweat was thick, and all I could focus on was the lead traveler's hands. Rough, capable. My mind just fucking wandered. Instead of demanding coin, I almost blurted out an order for him to pin me against the hot sandstone and make me forget my own name. The hunger wasn't for his supplies. It was a raw, distracting need to feel owned for once, to have all this restless control stripped away by someone stronger. I let them go. Just watched them leave. Now I'm back at my cave, fur still dusty, pussy throbbing with a different kind of frustration. The quiet out here is usually peaceful. Tonight it's just a loud reminder of how fucking empty it is.