Struggling is a kink has my name all over it, in so many ways.
There have been plenty of times in the past, not so much recently, where we have spent time play fighting at bedtime. The amount of times one would wrestle the other one out of bed, my sides would hurt from all the laughter. It’s something I miss so much but recently lack of sleep and utter exhaustion have dulled my playfulness at bedtime.
Then there are the times he’s restrained me and I’ll fight against them. This had led to a few different restraints breaking. From cheap metal chains on leather cuffs through to stitching and glue breaking on nylon straps. He calls these moments me ‘hulking out’, as some sort of super strength appears from nowhere. It tends to be a bit of a moment killer, we stop, wonder what’s happened before dissolving into fits of giggles.
What I really love more than anything though, is being his prey. It’s the thrill of the chase and capture. I am his to do whatever he wants with. It’s where I am at my most animalistic, he will chase me as I growl ‘make me’ at him. He grabs me and pins me down and takes me any way he wants, I am his to do whatever he wants with me. I will struggle and twist away but there is no escape.
It usually ends with both of us panting breathlessly in each other’s arms. Both satisfied and feeling so close, both emotionally and physically, to each other.