Femdom Fantasy: The Hostile Takeover

I am spoiling for a fight. For a feud. For a fuck.

Photo by Erik Lucatero on Unsplash

Rage.

It makes me see red. I don’t know where it’s coming from, what underground source of anger that’s been simmering away inside me for god knows how long has suddenly boiled over, erupting like Krakatoa, making my whole body vibrate.

I am spoiling for a fight. For a feud. For a fuck. An angry, aggressive hostility-fuck, full of teeth and nails and fists and pulling of hair. I am filled with primal hunger, my animal need clawing at my insides.

If he senses my heightened state, he doesn’t say. He simply potters around the kitchen, making tea, pinching chocolate digestive biscuits out of the tin, and spying on the neighbours from the window. I watch him standing there, slack-jawed and in mustard-stained grey sweatpants that haven’t been washed in weeks, scratching his balls and dropping biscuit crumbs all over my clean kitchen counter.

“Must you do that?” I fume, feeling my pulse quicken.

He turns around and looks at me in surprise, his mouth hanging half-open and chocolate smeared around his lips. I can see the dark toffee- coloured sludge of semi-masticated biscuit in his gaping mouth. How attractive. Nice to know you’re still making an effort, you arse, I think to…