Let's pretend that this is a real blog that will be posted for everyone to see, shall we? It won't be, mostly for the reasons we discussed previously, although I reserve the right to post it in the future. But for now, it's all yours.
I don't know why I understand the cat in you. I suppose it could be as simple as "I'm good with animals" and "animals like me" both of which I've said to you (although half in jest.) It could be a little bit that you make very realistic noises, and as I can't see you it's very easy to imagine you-as-cat as opposed to you-as-man. But most of it is that you believe it. And, especially while entranced, what you believe I believe. (This I think is also a key to why we interacted so successfuly the other night.) What you believe, I believe, and what I believe you believe, at least within the confines of that tiny (and immeasurable) time that we call trance.
So. Yes, the animal in you appeals to me. The sound of the growl/purr/rumble in my ear makes my muscles clench and my breath come fast, as you undoubtably have noticed. I like the strangeness of it, the danger of it, the language of it; I like the idea that since you know it's real I can be drawn in to that knowing so easily.
And my descent into sharing that space (headspace?) with you happens frighteningly quick. You say 'pinned down', and I can feel a paw the size of my head pushing my chest into the bed. You talk about teeth, and I can feel them hovering over every part of my body that you describe. You ask me if I know what I am, and I don't even have to think about it. I know I'm prey. Every bit of me knows, and it's titillating and terrifying all at once. My chest gets pressed deeper into the bed and you keep asking me if I know I'm prey, do I know what happens to prey, do I know what you will do. I know it in every bit of me, every atom screaming in fear but not wanting you to stop. But you make me say it, you make me answer, you make me really, viscerally, deep in the part of my brain that only knows to run or fight know that I am prey and that you are a danger to me. Because I surrendered to the cat the first time I ever asked for the growl. I laid myself out for it, knowing the danger, because it was intoxicating and arousing to know that I responded so strongly. And yes, it sounded like panic, but it wasn't. I couldn't have used my panic button if I'd been ordered to, because my ability to think like a person was completely gone. I don't know what you made me, but it was something other than human.
And bringing me back, calming me down, taking me deep, and then leading me ever-so-carefully back to that point where I knew in my gut that I was prey. Asking me if I wanted to run, as if I was capable of answering you with anything resembling speech. Of course I wanted to run, but I couldn't figure out how I could do that and still be pinned to the bed. How I could be the person listening to your words as well as the creature quivering in fear and desperate to race away.
And bringing me back and calming me again, taking me deeper, and moving that line between standing strong and flight just a little askew, so that I could enjoy the experience through the fear. You said the noises sounded different, and that's because they were. I made the only noises I was capable of, instinctive and completely removed from any semblence in my mind of speech. Still knowing that I had to be quiet so that my roommate wouldn't feel the need to come down and ask why I sounded like an animal being hunted--which is why I don't think you realized that from the moment you said 'cum' that is all I did, over and over, a full body response that was a final release from fear more than anything else.
I quite enjoyed it.
But it was incredibly intense, and incredibly foreign to waking me.
I hope that this kind of description is what you were looking for; I very much wish that you could do the same thing in return for me. I'd love to have a guide to all the different sounds you make.
Text me on my phone if you want when you get up; I would love to start my day with your opinions on what I wrote.
which means something to me
and something to you
maybe not the same thing
but I know that eventually
you will tell me.