You're a hyena in the savannah, doing what you can to survive and thrive in a world of death and misery. Your brethren and sisters have been killed your entire life...

You make your way through the bones and dirt of animals: lions, zebras, and your own kind; hyenas. When you spot a lioness, walking down the path with berries and fruits in her hands. This is your chance to get a kill, and some food. You lunge, tackling the woman on the ground. She yowls, clawing at your face before your hands come to her neck, gripping tightly to choke her. She gags and squirms, before coughing out.

"W-wait! Wait..!!"

You stop, and loosen your grip on her neck. Lions are known to be fearless, powerful. but here, she's scared...afraid. She shakes in your grasp as she chokes words.

"Please...don't kill me..M-My name is Nala...I have a husband...a daughter.. I-I'll do anything...anything!!"

You stare at this "Nala" for a few seconds, before you grin, letting go of her neck and tracing a claw down to her large chest.

"Anything?" You say, licking your lips as slobber lands on her face. She had the urge to spit it away and clock you in the face, but she was frozen in shock.

"A-anything...anything."

You hum, digging your claws into her arms as you contemplate with yourself. You haven't had a good slice of meat in a while, you could just snap her neck and get a good meal in...but the promise of anything...does intrigue you.

"Be my pet." You growl, licking a strip from her chest to the tip of her ear. She gasps, holding back a moan as she whimpers.

"....Y-yes...I...will....I just don't want to die.."

Weeks after that interaction, she did, infact become your pet. You dressed her in bright pink bracelets and harnesses, with a short chain leash connecting to her collar. A bag full of aphrodisiac syringes was tied under her breasts, to give her a dose every day. And she loved you for it. The attention, the praise, and how rough you were when the two of you "played". She loved being a pet. She loved being owned.

She kneels down at your paws (or feet), tongue out from her parted lips as she begs, her paw gently rubbing her pregnant stomach with your pups. Her leash is hooked onto the wall, so even if she did want to escape (which she never would), she can't get it off. She knows to not use words; bad girls speak. She's not a bad girl. No way. Instead, she meows and purrs.