Earlier this year, I talked about how I worry sometimes that I’ve lost the hunger that drives my dominance. It doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it only comes alive when I have someone I want to aim it at.
When I haven’t felt it for a while, it becomes like some distant thing. Vaguely remembered, but shadowy, intangible.
Even though it didn’t work out with bambi, I am beyond delighted and grateful that he was a perfect target for the hunger. It was especially strong in the beginning before the emotional complexity complicated things and muted it. I got to experience again how the feelings could become too big for my body, like I needed more and endless space into which to throw all this aggression and violence, like it could fill some bottomless chasm.
I felt like ‘me’ again, the me that is somehow inaccessible otherwise. The me that waits quietly, that feels sometimes like it has disappeared.
I’d almost forgotten what that part of me was like, how it felt, and oh my god, I’ve missed it. That I got to unleash it with a man who looked at me, opened his arms and said ‘bring it!’ was a relief and a joy, a reminder of what it is I want.
I wondered at times if I was going to be able to control it, all that ferocity and passion that I hadn’t let loose in what felt like forever.
At one point in the middle of assaulting him, I paused to breathe and he looked at me with what felt like shock.
“You are so… aggressive…” he said, and I felt a little flutter of concern. “Hot!” he added before he opened up to me again.
I grinned at him, all teeth and snarling desperate want.
Yeah, I know.