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Primal Dance:

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I feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
My rapid heart beat is your song of choice.
You, stalking from the shadows staring, waiting to pounce.
My mind says to run, my core says to present myself.
You can smell my sex, desire, and ***. One over powering the other; the tug of war between them is enticing.
You swiftly move behind me, sniffing in my scent, hardening your cock.
As I turn your hands grab me, pushing me against the wall, one hand on my throat.
The game is on, my futile struggle to break free only makes your smile wider.
You’re feeding off my aroused ***.
You’re growling in my ear, “you are mine!”, your free hand moves to my slit, as you push your thick fingers inside, “this is mine!”
As I buck my hips to free myself, you thrust deeper inside, my body betrays me and a moan escapes my lips.
I resist for as long as I can, refusing to believe what I already know; I enjoy this, I want to be his, and I want to be owned.
You bite my skin, licking the salty sweat down to my breasts.
Sucking and taking my nipples in between your teeth, I gasp as the sweet ***ful pleasure radiates down to my core.
You growl with pleasure, as you feel me getting wetter; your prey is falling deeper into your trap.
By the end of it all you will own me, mark me, leave a memory in my mind about this moment, and I will submit to you.
Your choreographed dance has purpose, albeit unorthodox but it has meaning to you and I; you lead, I follow.
This dance is a beautiful paradox of ***, pleasure, dominance, submission, and chaotic design.
Can we put the song on repeat and dance again?


Omg this is amazing. I loved reading it and hope you write more soon. 

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