She still hadn’t snapped out of it - not there, not yet. Blurred boundaries tugged at her awareness, setting confusion into spinning whirls in her body. She sacrificed the deepest of her self to him for his whims and pleasure. She trusted his direction and intentions.
“Go on,” his grin was wild, his eyes excited. She knew she wouldn’t - but the parallel of harming herself for his entertainment was a comforting and familiar display of obedience. Had she been deeper, more entranced, lost in her world of endurance for him - would she?
Aghast, she felt the shock of the edge. Emotion welled, spurring her speechless, making any attempt of expression sink into stutters. He was happy, joyful, carefree. Her life in his hands - she wondered how much she would mind if it was lost.
The same goes for the words and mind games, the emotional cut of an insult spat into their face, or crooned, if you’re of that mindset.
It might lead to satisfaction and catharsis down the road, but right now, they’re thriving off the twin emotions of pain and pleasure, enjoying the feeling of being torn down exactly as they’re being built up.
A beautiful paradox.
Traversing the deep, almost-forgotten swampland, she felt the thrill of muddy water seeping over the top of her boots. Thick fog shrouded her shelter, obscuring distant paths that led to faraway horizons.
She breathed in swirls of fragrance whilst feeling the lush greenery brush against her cheek: it was a sanctuary for wilderness to thrive. Her toes were wet, her arms prickled, and she happily ventured forth to frolic in her adventurous escapade.
She was not aware of the coming snow, or coldness from impending winter. Unprepared, she saluted the blank faces of flowers enjoying their precious moments of sunlight. Oblivious to the night, she wondered why the sun was in motion.
Stars in galaxies shined down upon her small, lonely world: a spaceship of joy, of sadness, of elation and despair. Each life was thrust into existence unwillingly, no negotiation offered, with an expectation to bend with yielding adaptation until broken.
She closed her eyes, absorbing the pain of living. Escape… from constraints pounding headaches into her, from heartaches clutching at the fabric of her being, tearing it apart. She’d spent a lifetime searching for those temporary respites, pleading to herself that if she found enough, those pieces would connect and form a whole, a freedom.
Stepping forward into her place, she felt a calm wave of serenity. A scratch, a sting, a burning afterglow… her resolution remained strong, affected but wildly heavy in the core of her own, inner planet. Only walking forward with intent, holding hands with her tender suffering, could she catch those scintillating flashes of what it could be.
Kiss your fingers greedily
I will lose track of the floor
I will lose track of my feet
All that you’ve conquered
Was already yours
Walking the night sky
“
| — |
Halou (The Ratio Of Freckles To Stars)
|
I knew I wasn’t a “bottom”, “submissive” didn’t feel like it said enough about who I really was, and “slave” felt like it said things that weren’t true at the time. Master and I were out to breakfast one spring morning. I was talking about these feelings and finally, in frustration, I said I wasn’t ascribing to any of our cultural titles anymore… henceforth, I would be known as a pancake.
I could just as easily have chosen some nonsense word, but pancakes were on Master’s plate at the time, while I had ordered crepes. He looked down at them, then back at me and asked, “Why a pancake?”
My reply: “Because you chose pancakes! Because you obviously like pancakes! Pancakes are simple, honest things, not all high-maintenance like, say, crepes. I want to be something you would order!”
“
| — |
Kacie Cunningham (Conquer Me)
|
hidden in shadow
the heart longs for the freedom
found only in chains
One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can’t utter.
