Our eyes lock, my gaze asking questions triggered by the moments which had passed not long before, His eyes giving clues, but not full answers in reply.

The hand, which had only moments before tenderly cupped my face, now hovered menacingly over my naked breast.

With that singular, powerful move, the atmosphere changed, my breath catching on jagged shards of raw anticipation, senses keenly brought into focus.

His expression hardens, and right there is the moment I start to feel it.


His open palm is barely brushing my nipple, yet suddenly my mouth is dry, and my heart is pounding in my chest.

I know He’s going to hurt me.
I just don’t know how.
Is He going to grab the whole breast in His hand, and twist, and squeeze?
Is He going to take the exposed nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinch until I cry out in agony?
Is He going to slap the breast, again, and again, and again, each stinging blow taking my breath away?
I just don’t know.

I’ve gone from lover, to prey.
I’m hyper aware.
Short, shallow breaths.
Heart racing.
Eyes imploring

I shake my head, whimpering, my voice barely a whisper….’no‘…..
He holds me with His predatory stare, and grins.
He doesn’t speak, just slowly, deliberately, nods His head.


When I first thought of fear as a word for this challenge, and what it meant to us and how we play/interact on a D/s level, I was adamant that it bore no relation to what we do, that it had no place in our dynamic. Fear Play, as a concept, triggered an emphatic ‘fuck no, thank you!’ from me. Yet, having thought about it, about the scenario above, and looking at some messages exchanged with Sir (generally, not on the topic itself), it became clear that we do have this element present in our play.
However, the fear spoken of above is not an abject fear of being physically harmed, or psychologically traumatised at His hands. For me, it’s about about Him using His power over me as a tool, building (sexual) tension, heightening my awareness, creating a scene where I’m focused on His every move, where his sadistic tendencies come to the fore and I am His plaything, His prey.

Seeing my fear reflected in His eyes really is one hell of an aphrodisiac.

The ONLY reason I can play this way is because I know, with absolute certainty, that I will never, ever, come to any harm whilst in His care. I trust Him implicitly. That trust, and the safe haven He builds around me allows a (potentially) negative term to be turned on it’s head and used in a positive way, for our mutual gratification.