08 May 2013

Prey Dreams

The woods around me are cool and green, but I don’t notice- not today. Rarely am I prey- I have reminded lovers more than once that I am a predator in my own right- but in this moment I am the frightened rabbit Rush named me for, bounding through the woods with fear hot on my heels.
Fear isn’t the only thing. My feet are pounding, bare into the cool earth, and while I know my own steps are loud, they aren’t as loud as those behind me. So rarely am I the one pursued in my dreams, but today, I am. Branches slap at my exposed skin, leaving welts of their own before you even begin to draw close, and every bush I dodge and tree trunk I leap seems to reach out and exact its own toll for passage… or perhaps it seeks to slow or catch me for your use.
I can hear your steps behind me, over my own labored breathing, and a glimpse back is enough to make me stumble. That stumble is enough to be my undoing, slowing me just enough for an animal leap and outstretched hand to force me to my knees, scrambling painfully in the dirt, trying desperately to rise before… but it is too late, and the full weight of your body lands across me, driving the air from my lungs with a surprised grunt.

I’m nearly useless until I can breathe again, able only to draw my knees up in a pathetic attempt at something between the fetal position and kicking you away. Your only response is a growling laugh- as much the beast as the man- and a deft yank at my legs to force them back down while I choke and wheeze and try to curl away from the heat and weight of your body across me. I won’t mention the secret whimpering desire to curl into you, instead.
My breath is slowly coming back, gasps of oxygen slowly drawing strength into my limbs, but my legs are already pinned by your weight and my wrists by your hands. Your face is nearly atop mine and I want to snap and bite like the captive animal I am at this moment, but the snarl on your lips is enough to freeze me in place.

I am reasonably certain that if I call a true halt to this, that you will. Reasonably certain that if I call ‘Red,’ that you will stand, help me up, and all will be finished. But there is a kernel of doubt in my mind, and that kernel  freezes my limbs and wets my thighs.

The ground is hard beneath my back, little sticks and sharp edged leaves cutting into my skin and I know I am bleeding from at least one of the scratches that line my body like whipmarks. I know it in a much more visceral sense when your snarl abruptly becomes a growl, your face lowering to my neck, dragging my wrists as you slowly smell down the length of my bare body, causing goosebumps in a strange cocktail of fear and slowly growing desire. The first bleeding scratch you find is along my ribcage, ironically just below the old barbed wire scar and your tongue is oddly raspy against it. For once, it doesn’t tickle and in fact makes me writhe in pain until you clamp down on my skin with sharp teeth, freezing me again with a gasp and small whimper.
In this moment, I feel more like prey than I may have ever before, frighteningly unsure of what exactly you intend but only certain that I have little to no choice in it. I am embarrassingly grateful that your teeth are relatively gentle, and as your cheek grazes my side, my breathing speeds up again but for entirely different reasons.
I know you can hear the change, and the touch of your face against my skin as you explore my body with the most primitive of senses holds a note of cruel playfulness now, knowing that my body will respond to you despite my mind’s screaming fear… or perhaps because of it. Abruptly, the teasing caress is replaced by your teeth again, this time in the soft skin of my belly. My strangled gasp is closer to a barely restrained scream, and I know you can smell the abrupt switch to fear-scent along my body. Your reaction is clear and completely primal as your body sinks into mine, hands tightening on my wrists with bruising force, and your teeth sinking into my skin with enough force to make me writhe and scream against you in something between need, pain, and utter terror.
Finally, finally, your teeth slowly release the now well-marked skin of my belly, leaving behind a scatter pattern of rounded teethmarks and a faint trembling throughout my body. Only now do you move farther down my body, and the trembling is of a different sort when your cheek grazes my exposed hip and your teeth skim the hollow between hip and mons.
I hear your breathing change now, scenting the steadily growing arousal between my thighs and it triggers a change in my own- high, keening whimpers of fear and desire as my mind flips between desire for your mouth on me and fear of your teeth in the most sensitive skin of my body.
The graze of your teeth across my labia are enough to make me cringe, and your growl is closer to a chuckle now, which is less than reassuring to my panicked heartbeat.Twisting my wrists desperately, I am thankful that you are distracted enough by the scent of my arousal that your hands have loosened, allowing me to yank my hands free and scramble from beneath you when you rear back in surprise.
In a second I am on my feet and moving but fruitlessly. Without bothering to stand, you you simply leap at me before I can run, bringing my back down hard enough to see stars. Even more vulnerable now, prone in the crunching leaves I try fiercely to wriggle away, but succeed only in settling your weight more firmly across my body. Your hands pinning my arms now will leave bruises without question, and as I buck against you, I can feel you growing harder against my exposed ass from the writhing kiss of skin on skin and the intoxication of complete power over me. Redoubling my efforts, I only earn myself the sharp, bruising pain of your teeth in the back of my neck.
The force of your teeth in my neck flips a switch in the deeply primal, feline part of my psyche and I drop limply beneath you in surrender. I can feel your mild surprise and confusion in the increased pressure on my arms anticipating a trick, but there is no trick now. Your teeth in the back of my neck give the most primitive aching corner of my psyche a simple message: He wins. This is earned.
With a low moan, my head drops to the forest floor and I writhe beneath you in blatant invitation, arching my neck slightly into your teeth. Despite the lust I can now smell equally clearly on you, your suspicion remains and my arms are dragged behind my back to be pinned one handed while you lift yourself slightly from my body and drawing a whimpering moan from me. Lifting my hips in primitive request, I am surprised by the sharp smack to my ass until it’s quickly followed by one large hand pressing my face back into dirt when I lift it in startled inquiry. There is a potent reminder in the rough force that regardless of any change of heart, initiative today is unwelcome and control of this moment resides firmly and completely in your hands. A soft whimper escapes my throat as I subside back to the ground, fighting my own urge to press into you. Your chuckle is nearly human now, and the hand that runs caressingly down my side is a clear reward for my obedience, which draw another small whimper from my throat, but this time in gratitude for the gentle touch.
I revel a little now in the vulnerability of my position- naked, prone, wrists pinned in one of your hands at the small of my back, and your body easily pinning mine. The heat of your skin and scent of it rubbing into mine is enough to make me moan and ache to arch into you, even as your legs roughly part mine and I can feel the hard length of you pressed against my ass. No fear of punishment or desire for obedience is enough to stop my hips from rising to meet you, and even your free hand roughly pressing me back down elicits not the slightest contrition.
Finally, finally, I feel the head of you nudging me, opening me, and when my inner lips finally part and you slide inside of me the sound pulled from my throat is matched only by your low sound of satisfaction.

I am physically incapable of stillness now, not with the heavy heat of you inside of me, stretching and filling me, and shortly I am writhing beneath you and matching every pump of your hips. I can feel you stroking my g-spot with every thrust, but your hand forcing my face back into the ground reminds me once more that my input here is not encouraged, and for the moment I am simply prey to be taken and enjoyed. I can’t not rock my hips to meet yours, can’t stop the steady stream of moaning whimpers spilling from my parted and dirt-covered lips. I may not be able to control any of this interaction, but neither fear nor obedience can stop me from responding to it, can stop the steady stream of pleading sounds ripped from my throat as you fuck me.
I have no idea how much time passes, no idea when  my body finishes adjusting to yours and the movement of my hips roughens, deepens and matches yours. I have no idea when the painful pressure of your cockhead against my cervix becomes almost pleasure, or if I just stopped caring due to the endorphin rush. I have no idea when sweat and arousal mixed to create the potent, slippery scent permeating the air around us, or when you released my hands and let me brace myself for your thrusts.
I have no idea when the last shred of control fell from us both, or when your teeth found my neck again. I have no idea how much time passed before I felt the telltale speeding of your hips, the change of your thrusts to cross the line into pain, or the clenching of your hands on my hips. I only know the effect on me, only know the anticipation that rocked my hips to match every painful pleasurable stroke. I only know the tightening of your hands on my hips- another set of bruises I anticipated with pleasure now- and the growling roar pulled from your throat as you spilled yourself in me.
I only know the mini-orgasm that tightened my body as my lover’s orgasm always does, and the heated collapse of your body across mine, spilling me again into the dirt. I only know the tight wrapping of your arms around my body, pinning me close to you and ignoring my half-hearted attempts to move. I only know the chuckling, raspy words spoken with an effort and growled into my ear, “Who says you’re done yet?”

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