When she pulls me to her, I feel the thrill of danger more than I ever did in the circus. I am a moth being drawn to a flame, only I am too conscious of the pain she will inflict on me. She will smile as I burn, but I am powerless when she turns her golden eyes on me. Her teeth graze my neck and her nails trail down my back, and I know I am in the power of a terrifying predator. If she decided to turn on me at that moment, I would be completely helpless.
Still, I return night after night. I cannot resist her. I gasp as she moves against my body, and I shake with fear as much as pleasure. My eyes look to her face searching for a sign that the hunter has decided to spare her prey for another day. That rush of adrenaline and the feeling of a narrow escape is more addictive than anything else I've ever known. I provoke her sometimes during the day, irritate her just enough to make her reassert her authority over me. When she snarls against my throat and grabs my wrists so hard it hurts, it sends shivers up and down my back. When she turns those burning eyes on me I know I'll never be able to escape her. But I don't think I want to.