Was she the beauty or the beast?
She waited as instructed. Posed, positioned, blinded, and bare as her Master had commanded. Gripping the cold, hard, steel of the horse sculpture. Not knowing what would come next. Her mind wandered to the animal she clung to. The power, the muscle, the usefulness, the grit. Man had learned to break them, to tame them, and they submitted, even though they were stronger—strong enough to kill. Was the horse a metaphor for her submission? Was it the beast or was she?
She was the carnivore. She was the one who ordered trees to be taken down; wilderness to be cleared. She had a carbon footprint. She added to the landfills. With the press of a few buttons, nearly anything she wanted would just show up at her door. She used, she wasted, she burned, she consumed, she ruined, and she destroyed.
And then she thought of Him…. She wanted to love Him, adore Him, heal Him, worship Him, and exalt Him, yes…, but there was also something darker… deeper… depraved. She wanted to devour Him. To possess Him. To fill her body up with Him and hoard Him inside of her. And she craved His obsession with her—with her erotic mind, her submissive heart, her wanton body. She wanted His claim. His ownership. She would share Him, temporarily, and on her terms, but she ultimately wanted Him all to herself, and she knew the frightening fierceness with which she would protect what she knew to be hers.
She knew a woman could be soft, gentle, sensual, nurturing, loving, and beautiful… but there was more now. There was a wildness within her. A rawness that had crawled out from her depths… wet, hungry, growling, almost murderous. She now had an astute awareness and understanding of the feminine shadow… the dark feminine energy. She was a feral beast, and she could be terrifying….
He had awakened this beast inside of her. Did it scare Him? Was He capable of soothing her back to serenity and docility? Did He want to?
