Prey

I've been giving more thought to what it means to have an inner "prey". It's not something I keep locked in a cage like Master's Beast. It roams freely inside me, it is a very proud animal and is very confident in its ability to entice and then evade the Beast. If it isn't able to evade the Beast it is certain it can withstand whatever the Beast may do to it.

I'm sure some wonder where this comes from just like they wonder where masochsim begins, etc. I really can't tell you because I don't know, it's part of who I am. When I was a little girl my favorite games to play were hide and seek (I hated being the seeker always liked being sought) and house. I wanted to play the "traditional" wife role, playing the housekeeper and happy face for the play hubby to come home to. As I got older I began to fantasize, my favorite fantasy was about being swept away by a very strong, very dominant male (think Viking warlord), who'd keep me locked in a tower somewhere as his and his alone. But, I was no meek thing in these fantasies, he'd have to woo me, win me over, and in some cases fight with me to get what he wanted.

It's true that in the past I was a victim. I was helpless and afraid and for a long time that fear and helplessness plagued me even after the abuse ended. I reclaimed myself and claimed my personal power some years ago and put those demons to rest. This isn't about reliving my victimhood or my abuse, I never want to feel that way again.

I think my inner prey was with me even then, as a child. Perhaps that is what made me a target for abuse. I don't know and I don't spend much time these days wondering "why me?" I do know that even then I knew I'd survive whatever was done to me I was sure of it, as sure as I am now when the Beast comes out to play. I fought even then, with words, trying to wheedle my way out of the encounters and failing that, with threats of revelation.

When my inner prey comes out, fills me, whatever, I at once go soft and pliant all over, my masks are stripped away and nothing is left but the prey. I quiver all over in anticipation of the hunt, my breathing becomes quick and shallow and my heartbeat quickens. I don't know what he sees in my eyes but whatever it is he seems encouraged, inflammed, by it. I know that fighting him will cause him to be more vicious, sometimes I fight.

I've said it before but I think it bears repeating, there is a very dark part of me that craves to be left bruised and bleeding afterwards. I want to be left lying on the bed, barely able to move, bruises, scrapes, and cuts covering my body, my neck sore and beginning to purple, petichia around my eyes, my scalp raw where he's pulled my hair too tightly and pulled some out by the roots, my throat swollen from having his cock forced into it over and over, basking in the endorphin rush and the knowledge of being used well and my Master being well-sated for the time being. I even crave the aftercare; his tender, and sometimes not so tender, ministrations, cleaning my wounds and covering them with anti-bacterial ointment to prevent infection, stroking my head and looking into my eyes lovingly, and just cuddling with me after all that while we both slowly swim to the surface and the Beast and prey once again are buried just under the surface.

I know it sounds like a romanticized view of something that can be very violent and ugly and if things got out of control, deadly. But this is the reality of the majority of my experiences with this type of play. How can I see it as violent or ugly when it seems natural and normal to me? I've never wanted the romantic sex that other people seem to enjoy, I don't like soft and gentle love-making, I've tried it and found myself eager for the other to finish quickly while fighting my darker urges. While it's true that the Beast and the prey aren't strictly sexual, this is how Master and I seem to end up expressing them most often.

So maybe I haven't answered the whys, I'm still exploring it and hopefully will find better answers soon.