tagNonConsent/ReluctanceWrath's Instincts

Wrath's Instincts

byPTwrathwriter©

While I carried Cara off on our way to the hot spring, my need for her scythed a rampant path throughout me. Instead of trying to keep the passion under wraps like I usually did, at least to a moderate degree, I surrendered myself to it. Encouraged it, in fact.

There was method to the madness.

I knew we were gonna end up discussing our waking life situation, specifically Enepsigos. Frankly, I'll come clean and just say it, I wanted to put it off for as long as possible. That topic was Pandora's Box waiting to happen. Also, I was spooked by my unreliable memory. If Cara was right about draining me, I'd lose this precious time with her until I dreamed again. If I was gonna forget tomorrow her presence and any conversation we've had, why bother to fixate on the negative stuff? I hate to waste time, and since Cara wouldn't be forgetting the dream, I wanted to give her something worth remembering.

Don't get me wrong, I had a ton of selfish reasons banging around with my impassioned thoughts on why I should seduce Cara right from the get-go. I may be an angel, but I'm not a saint. Saints couldn't hack my line of work, anyhow. They'd probably keel over in unison if they had access to my many fleshly desires for the lush little body wriggling and bucking upon my shoulder.

Speaking of desires, while my fingertips rubbed tiny rings around her central pleasure-point, I noticed Cara's desires weren't searing through my mind. They should've been by then, I could feel on my fingertips the slick moisture preparing her body for mine.

Faltering in mid-step, I mourned my loss to her. "Cara, I can't see your desires. This sucks, baby. It really sucks. You do want me, don't you? It feels like you do."

Cara patted my back. She slathered the false sympathy on thick when she said, "Poor you, reduced to my level. Oh, the degradation. How will you ever be able to manage?"

For that cheeky remark, I swatted her on the butt.

"Hey!" Cara yelped, digging her nails into my back as her biteable rear-end bopped about in the air. She lured me to resume my preparatory fondling. Her jouncing eased as she melted sensually into my touch once more. "Oh--oh my," she gasped. Then she started in on making these soft erotic sounds that were part moaning and part purring. "Oh, Wrath...ooh...ooh. Ooh, Wrath, mmm...yes...mmm."

As Cara writhed against my hand, I murmured to myself, "Hmm, I think I'll manage just fine." But as her arousal heated up, steadily increasing to a boil like I've never seen from her before, she riveted my senses, which were at that point ultra observant and going haywire.

Cara was a voluptuous drape of sultry, silken skin undulating against me. When her heaven-scent turned musky with the scent of woman, my nostrils flared and an involuntary, territorial growl rumbled up my throat out of nowhere. My feet became immobile cement blocks at the entrance of the bathing chamber tiled in lapis lazuli. I knew I wouldn't make it across the room to the hot spring.

My already rampant desire for Cara no longer scythed. It switched weapons and just went nuclear.

I had only a second to wonder if letting it loose was a mistake. Unfortunately, it was way past too late for second thoughts. Whatever control I might've commanded was incinerated in the burgeoning firestorm that was my violent need to mate with Cara. It pains me to own up to this, but that was the polite wording of the real sentiment I felt at the time.

Anyone who knew how I was around her most likely assumed I was a sex-crazed pervert. Hell, my response to her always bewildered me. Nobody really understood the depth, the height, and the width of the irresistable attraction that pulled me to her, not even Cara. She felt something similar, but I was certain it translated differently through her. She was receptive, I was projective.

Once our relationship became sexual, I had to struggle constantly at keeping my outrageous needs in check. Not trying to be crude, but those needs were exceptionally physical ones. To be clear, I'm not including my emotional attachment to Cara in this; as it was, my love for her had Jeckyll-Hyde tendencies to curb or exacerbate the problem. The animal instinct, alone, to mate and procreate with Cara was the major monkey on my back. I was driven by it, and I'm not using hyperbole when I say it's a very violent drive. That's why I've always been so careful to keep the full extent of it on lockdown.

This being a dream, as real as it seemed, originally made me think it was safe to let go of my hold. I'm honest enough to admit part of me always wanted to explore and experience a no-holds-barred love match with Cara.

Yet, as the mushroom cloud burnt through the dregs of my caution, my last coherent thought was a belated reminder that Cara herself was not part of the dream. She was real. Though I doubted I could harm her in a bodily way, I didn't wanna traumatize her if I got too unruly.

But I dragged Cara from my shoulder and had her pinned to the entranceway's tiled wall before I could finish my worrying.

I was all over her, a starved man suddenly given a free pass at an all-you-can-eat buffet. I was clothed and she wasn't, somehow that just made it hotter as I exploited her vulnerability with my mouth and hands.

In the wild state I was in, her tinyness turned me on more than ever before as it awoke the big dominant male in me. Pulling her away from the wall, I lifted her off her feet and ground her against me as I devoured her mouth.

Cara had it pretty bad, herself. She gave almost as good as she got. She pulled my shirt off while I was busy kneading her bottom cheeks in my hands and pinching her ruched nipple between my teeth. Then Cara wriggled until I let her slide down me. She went to her knees.

And--holy frig--I discovered there were layers to my losing control. Her hands ran up the back of my legs and she was nuzzling my erection through my pants. When Cara's hands came back around the front of me to hastily remove the rest of my clothes, she took me into her mouth. It was a first, we'd never had the patience for excessive amounts of foreplay. I was much more focused on getting her ready for me, since I never needed any preparation to begin with. I know now that it's better left that way.

Her mouth was warm wet velvet--then something unidentifiable but important snapped in me. I mean there was a literal mental break involved. Yanking her up by her arms, I thrust Cara away from me, out of the entranceway and into the hall. My muscles zipped and zinged below the surface of my skin. I was in total chaos. Meeting her confused gaze, I ordered in a low, ragged snarl, "Run."

I like to think it was a warning, telling her she needed to give me space to calm down. It might even be the truth. But there was that animal instinct driving me and I know at least half of the reason I told her to run was simply because I wanted to chase her. To capture her. And then to master her. Like a stag, I wanted to run down the doe until I covered her and made her scream beneath me.

The old Cara would've stood there arguing with me, insisting I was overreacting. The new Cara was learning who her pairmate was and what he was capable of. Scenting danger, her confused expression grew wary. I don't know what she saw in my face, but she saw something there, all right. Without a word, Cara spun on her heel and streaked down the hall.

Seeing that change in her made a part of me die inside. She didn't trust me, she feared me. Her easy acceptance of my command, told me she'd thought about this and came to terms with it. Sadly, my observation didn't sink in until later on, after.

Presently, I loped down the hall in a sprint behind her. The chase was on. Knowing she was faster, pleased me. She was gonna make me work for it.

In the end, though, I was gonna win. I knew where she was headed when she made a left at the end of the hall.

Cara raced down the next hall and took the only door available to her. She had to slow down as she weaved through the three cluttered rooms that preceded my downstairs studio. Paintings were everywhere she turned and they were tripping up her escape.

I plowed through the paintings and pounced on her. The tackle threw us just inside the studio. It was a lot neater than the cluttered storerooms, nearly empty except for fresh canvases, paints, and brushes on a table beside the easal and stool set off to the side. The outer corner walls of the room were seamless windows. The two inner walls were mirrors to reflect back the view from every angle.

Trust me, I was aware of the use I could put the mirrors to just then as I glimpsed the sight of us falling to the oriental-style throw rug. I didn't need the mirrors, however, my excitement freely ran amok in the midst of conquest.

Cara wasn't quite out of arm's reach when she pushed up to her knees, breathing fast, and tried to crawl away. I grabbed her by her ankles, pulling her backwards to close the distance. Crouching over her back, I locked an arm under her belly, raising her hips up into position for me. With a fistful of her dark blond hair in my other hand, I twisted her face sideways, trapping her panting profile to the floor as I braced myself against the carpet.

Seeing Cara at my mercy, I took great pleasure in her futile thrashing and completed my descent into pure animal lust by moving in close to bite her on the back of the neck.

She screamed and I penetrated her, thrusting into her molten sheath hard and deep. I felt like I'd never get deep enough. The mad instinct had me seeking to brand the very insides of her womb. I don't recall thrusting again after the initial one, I was just burrowing as far into her womanly core as I could.

Cara promptly became a small submissive puddle underneath my overpowering body and as her sheath clamped down to constrict around me, we cried out at the same moment. The force of my orgasm turned me inside-out. Still joined, I collapsed on her, gasping and taking a long while to regain my senses.

Cara was sweaty, though shivering under me. Slowly, I eased off of her. Speechless, I stared at her back as I considered what I just put her through. Shivering now, myself, I gathered her in my arms to cradle her against my chest. She didn't flinch at my touch, I took heart in that as I got to my feet.

Turning back the way we came, kicking aside the paintings I destroyed in my pursuit of her, I carried Cara off once again to the bathing chamber.

*

The walk to the bathing chamber was silent. There was a new and uncomfortable understanding between Cara and I.

Don't get the wrong idea, please. What occurred in the studio wasn't rape. I'd kill myself first.

No, what occurred seemed to walk a fine line there, but at its essence it was wholly different, profound. It was nature taking its course in its visceral fashion. I think everyone knows nature has its beautiful side, just as everyone knows it has a necessary brutal twin that makes us turn our backs in shock.

What I experienced moments ago, what I believe Cara experienced as well, was the beauty buried in the brutal twin. Civility disappeared, leaving only the most basic, artless communication and union possible.

That's not to say I didn't feel as if I'd disgraced us both by turning into a savage. I could only imagine how messed up Cara's thoughts were at being victimized and enjoying it.

Hence my saying there was a new and uncomfortable understanding between us as we returned to the bathing chamber.

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