TW: This post contains mentions of a hunter/hunted roleplay dynamic and CNC. Reader discretion is advised.

Run, run, run as fast as you can…

Yes, the millennial in me desperately wants to finish with, “You can’t catch me! I’M THE GINGERBREAD MAN!”. But we’re not talking about how amazing Shrek is today (but if you ever want to be my friend, quoting the film is always a good start!). Instead, we’ll be focusing on the first part of that iconic phrase. Run. As fast as you can.

Run, rabbit, run is another one. Ready or not, here I come. Run, baby, run, run for your life for all you Dutch Melrose fans out there. There’s something about the thrill of the chase, whether it’s a literal chase or a bratty cat-and-mouse game between partners that ends in mind-blowing sex that ignites something, well…primal, in me.

Since it’s Spooky Season right now, I’ve noticed my social media getting inundated with one of my kinky weaknesses: masked men. As we gear up for Halloween, thirst traps of masked scare actors and couples buying Ghostface masks for some bedroom spice have flooded my feed. For those of you who don’t know, I have a bit of a mask kink. And if they’re wearing tactical gear? Excuse me while I swoon. And with the spookiness comes the skits, fantasies-turned-erotica and erotic audios of one thing in particular: Hunter/hunted (or Predator/prey) primal play. Specifically, being “chased” through the woods.

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t had these fantasies. I admit, that a small part of me almost feels ashamed of it. It’s not something you’re supposed to find sexy, Violet. Being chased through the woods in real life is easily one of the most terrifying things I can imagine. But with a consenting partner and thoroughly negotiated boundaries? Sign me the fuck up!

While I’m a switch, I’ve only ever imagined myself as the partner being “hunted”. The “prey” in the primal play. I’ve imagined myself running and hiding through woodland, trying to keep quiet while the “hunter” searches. Am I scared? No. I’m excited. I’m thrilled. If he wants me, he’s really going to have to work for it. I’ll run, hide and breathe so quietly it’s as if I wasn’t hiding right behind the tree he’s leaning against for breath.

But I won’t make it too hard. I’ll give him a few hints here and there. A twig snaps. Footsteps swiftly crunching the leaves. A stone hitting tree bark to throw him off the scent. I won’t make it easy for him, but I’ll make it exciting. Am I close? Am I far away? He won’t know until he sees me. Then like a deer in the headlights, I’ll bolt. Run, rabbit, run. The wolf has its eyes on you.

I’ll run, but I won’t hide anymore. That’s the point. I want him to catch me. I want him to overpower me. I want to surrender to him. The distance will close between us as he catches up to me. He’s always been the faster runner. The sound of our panting is our only accompaniment as we run and then…finally…

I feel his warm body slam against mine and I’m captured in the vice grip of his strong arms. I’ll kick, I’ll thrash, I might even scratch or bite. He loves it when I’m fiesty. He pins me up against a tree and I feel the bumps and ridges of the bark press against my back. Our breath mixes, and his wild eyes meet mine.

“Gotcha,” he teases triumphantly against my lips.

I’m all his now, and I’ve wanted nothing more. My pussy’s been throbbing since this little game of ours started. I want to be devoured by his ravenous kisses, by the strength in his hands as he takes my dress and rips it open, exposing my bra. It’s not long before the bra’s gone too. I didn’t wear underwear. His skilled, strong fingers slide through my wetness while he pins my wrists above my head with his free hand. All the time, his face is in mine with the same intense, prowling glint in his eye I’ve been dying to have on me all night.

He slips his fingers inside, pulsing in and out while his thumb strokes my clit. My knees buckle while his lips explore my neck and his teeth sink into the soft flesh. I whimper at the sharp sting of pain mixed with luscious pleasure coursing through my body. Yes…mark me…I’m yours. He works his fingers until I’m right at the edge, claiming me with his words growled in my ear and along my skin. A delicious mix of degradation and praise. I’m his little kitten. His and no one else’s. I’m his dirty fucking whore and only for him. Only he can bring out this side of me. Only he will see it. The needy slut behind those big, doe eyes that drive him crazy.

His teeth graze my overly sensitive nipples in the chilly night air as I spiral over the edge and climax so hard I feel like a puddle inside. He releases my wrists and guides them to his belt, which I hurry to unbuckle. He pulls me into a kiss so deep, so passionate, it’s as if we’re melded into one. It’s a territorial, animalistic kiss and I melt against his body.

But he’s not done yet, oh no.

He spins me around and pins me against the tree, the bark scratching my cheek as he hurries to push down his jeans. I gasp as he runs the tip of his cock through my folds and promises me that he won’t be gentle. Good. I don’t want him to me. And then? Ffffuuucccckkkk...he slowly sinks inside me. But he’s only slow then. Then the fun really starts.

He fucks me. And when I say he fucks me, he fucks me. His hips slam into mine and he thrusts inside me, fast, hard. There’s no room for gentleness here. This is rough. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back, his growls rolling down my skin and into the air. I feel the familiar grip of his hand around my throat as his teeth once again mark my skin. He’s merciless with my tits. Slapping them, watching them bounce against his movements, pinching my nipples so hard I moan low and guttural through clenched teeth.

I clench and tighten around his thick cock, relishing in the way it stretches my cunt. Filling me in the way I’ve craved since I fantasised about this so long ago. I feel nasty, dirty, in the most exhilerating way imaginable. My clit throbs, aching to be touched again but I love the denial he gives me. I’m his, after all. I belong to him. He staked his claim and now he’s earned his reward. I beg him to fuck me as hard as he wants, to choke me, leave my ass and thighs bruised by our sex. He wants to breed me and I let him, and my eyes roll back blissfully as he starts to shake and loud, animal grunts and cries puncture the now frosty air around us.

I don’t realise just how cold I am until he bundles me into his arms. He takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders, making sure I slip my arms into the sleeves that drown me. He’s tucking my head into the nook of his neck and peppers my face with soft, kisses.

Are you ok? Was I too rough?

No. It was perfect.

I’m floating on air and he is my anchor. We sink into each other’s arms and his kisses are sweet, tender. There’s no roughness left inside us. It’s seeped from our bodies into the soil beneath our feet, planting the seeds to grow more of this game we’ve decided to play.

• Image – Pixabay