Like Father, Like Daughter Ch. 05

It isn't that I don't want a "normal" relationship-I do. I have tried to date men who treat me with respect, who value me for more than my body, who see me as a person to be loved rather than a territory to be conquered. These relationships start sweetly enough, but I know they are doomed from the beginning. As soon as a predatory alpha male enters or reenters my life and initiates the hunt, I fall back into the role of prey. It is a role that I relish and revile in equal measure, but it is the role I was born to play.

Although I didn't cum, everything about my encounter with Cam turned me on, both at the time but also—and especially—in retrospect. The cocksure way he pursued me. The ease with which he identified and exploited my vulnerabilities. How callous and careless he was in casting aside another girl in favor of me. The skill with which he manipulated me into a compromising position and pressed his advantage without hesitation. The instinctive way that he seized on my uncertainty as an opportunity to take control of the situation. The brazenness with which he prioritized his own pleasure above my needs. How he reveled in the glory of claiming me at another man's expense—his own brother! The verbal abuse he heaped on me even as pillaged the fruits of my body. The sense of privilege and entitlement with which he debased and then disposed of me. And, finally, the big cock that let him get away with it all.

After that night, Cam never fucked me again, but he established an archetype in my mind. He taught me what to look for in a man and what to expected from sex, and against my better judgment, I have been on the lookout for men like him and situations like that first one ever since. I try not to chase these men, but I cannot resist presenting them with the chance to chase me. And—if I have identified them correctly—they seldom disappoint.

We all recognize the thrill of the hunt, but I know well the thrill of the hunted. To most men, my beauty and my body make me an intimidating quarry, but to some men these very qualities are what mark me as their birthright. And for me, there is no thrill that compares to being hunted by an alpha male who feels entitled to the body of a beautiful women: it is a cocktail of power and vulnerability, of excitement and inevitability that has made an addict out of me.

I have experienced this thrill enough to know that it is fleeting, yet the high is so exquisite that temptation never fails to get the better of me. But addiction has no endgame. The thrill of the hunted is a youthful pleasure and I am not as young as I once was. My beauty and my body are still able to captivate the kind of men I cannot resist. My Asian inheritance promises that I will age more graceful than my white girlfriends. But even I am not immune to decay, and with each passing day, I see men's eyes wander a little more and linger a little less.

And it may even be a good thing, this aging. I fight against it in the gym every morning and in my vanity mirror every night, yet it may be the only hope I have for real happiness. I cannot resist dominant men, but someday, perhaps they will be able to resist me. If and when that day comes, perhaps a kinder, gentler type of man—the kind that I have so often dismissed with casual indifference, the kind that I have cheated on uncontrollably with more arrogant, aggressive men—will finally have a chance with me, if they still desire it. And perhaps I will finally have a chance at a healthy relationship.

Until that day, however, I fear that I will remain addicted to the thrill. I see my father in the men that fuck me. I see my lonely future in his past.

*****

Big thanks to anyone and everyone who read this story from start to finish. I know it was long, but I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Hugs,

Sneaky_Lola