( Originally posted to my fetlife account, this was a bit of implied erotica)
There is a lot to be said for identifying as a tiger.. especially a
Cheshire. It pushes the line of toying with your food. The games take a
new complexity as I keep the pace, changing the path to confuse the prey
as we make our way through the field of play. The game begins easily
enough - just talking to me kicks it off.
I'm known for my bite, the marks and cries I leave behind me in the
night. Moving fast in the grass towards the next unsuspecting target,
wasn't the thunder of my paws on the ground a give away? Down they go,
struck down as though hit by a truck. Claws leave gashes, moans as lips
brush flesh before teeth sink in. Leaving behind a trail of "I win I win
I win.."
Not everyone is created equal, sometimes I find my self circling
bigger prey then I should really take. Sizing up the risk, the challenge
of the chance is thrilling. My blood sings as the motions become more
calculated - the dance more carefully paced. If I'm going down, I'm
going fighting and enjoying it the entire way.
Rarely am I ever surprised, but those moments excite me more. A
chance to think on my feet, to turn the tables or adjust the game for
me. Scrambling to my feet or writhing below who ever has managed to
capture me. Its my turn to cry softly with the pressure against my skin,
yet even in this moment those cries mean " I win I win I win..."
In every game played, the risks taken, the thrill of the hunt - being
predator or prey. How can I loose? Even when I'm the one pinned below,
teeth bared and claws raking the body above.. I've still won the game I
set out to play. Because that's what a Cheshire does, we love our games,
the tricks we play and the teasing we leave in our wake.
I want to play a game... Who's in?
No comments:
Post a Comment