Feb 282014
 

The majority of her wounds healed and soreness dissipated. He believed it was a bruised rib that was the main issue. The rest were bruises, scratches, and cuts. He put them there. He examined and tended to each one, gently. He helped her get into a warm bath. There weren’t many words exchanged between them. She faltered, breaking-in words like “Sir” and “Master.”

She preferred the shower. He allowed her to shave. He watched her. She returned the razor to him when she was finished. He would sit silently on the toilet, his head lolling from one side to the other in appreciation. He took the razor. She closed the curtain and finished bathing. He left the bathroom to go back to whatever he was doing. She caught him, once. He was standing with his back to the doorjamb, listening. She was singing in the shower.

Dressing was a game. He gave her first choice. A sharp “stop!” from the doorway … and she knew her outfit for the day was chosen, even if she only had on parts of it.  There were days when she wasn’t allowed clothes at all. The weather was warm enough that bare flesh and lite materials were not an issue. But the evenings…

He initiated the walks. She wore a collar. It’s soft, black leather didn’t make up for its heaviness around her neck. At least it didn’t rub her horribly. She had trouble keeping up with his pace. His leash was short. Heavy chain looped through the thick O-ring on her collar. She wanted to wander. He wanted her right by his side. He was anxious about letting her out. She was anxious about being out.

The collar and chains kicked up a puff of dirt when they fell from her neck. They walked in the house with the sun setting behind them. She felt the eggshells she walked on would give into the burden of what to say next.

Thank you, for taking me with you… on the walk, Sir.” She shivered while she moved around, using the lamps to bring the room to a warm glow.

You’re welcome, pet.” He freed his feet of his boots at the door and smiled on his way to take up the length of the couch.

It’s a little chilly, Master. Would you make a fire?” She gave him a hopeful smile.

No. I’m warm. It would make sense that if you want to be warm, you would be over here next to me.” She didn’t know how to say ‘no’ to him without riling him up. She stayed on the floor, in silence.

He looped through the channels until he found something he liked. She chuckled at the show. He playfully poked her with a sock’ed toe. Inside jokes from the days when they were a “real” couple riddled their time together. Those moments caught them off guard and confused his new order of operations.

Well into the night, the breeze that trickled through the open windows in the home got the best of her. She scooted herself closer to the couch, inching towards warmth.

You going to hide down there when December comes, pet?” He chuckled. Eggshells, again. Some things were so familiar. Some things scared her to speak about.

Hopefully you’ll give me a blanket by then, Sir.” She couldn’t imagine being kept on this property, being his little pet, until winter.

I believe I just gave you my answer on that one.” He reached down and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. His touch could quickly go from good to bad, from bad to worse.

Were you not listening?” He let the lock of her hair slip through his fingers and fall back down to her shoulders. She turned around to look at him.

To be honest, Sir… I need to go home. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t bite my tongue. I can’t snuggle and call you ‘Master.’ It’s not true. You know I don’t feel that way. I’m scared of being here. I’m scared of you hurting me. I don’t feel the same about you.” She was pouring on a thin layer of confidence. Trying to control that much apprehension left her visibly shaking.

He turned his head to look at her.

You’re not going home. You’ll snuggle and be glad I let you. You’ll call me Master because I own you. Trust me, you’ve got plenty of time to get comfortable with it. You best make sure that I know you’re comfortable with it, too. I expect you to make progress. You might not have feelings for me like before, but you will. You’ll submit again. It’ll be easier this time.” He reached out and tugged at a lock of her hair, playfully.

Smile, pet. No need to fight a battle you can’t win.” He went back to his television show.

She was speechless. Her attention drifted towards the television, too.

elust

Feb 092014
 

In the dead of goodbyes, I would have swallowed my pride.

I would have set the past aside. No hard feelings inside.

***

But you, couldn’t see what was true. Couldn’t feel me and you.

You were afraid of what we’d do. I was afraid of it too.

***

I could feel you grow. You let it show. You let me know.

But you had to go. Excuses I’ll never know. Cards you’ll never show.

 ***

No more wailing inside. I patched up my pride. Your bullshit won’t ride.

No more reasons to hide. I set that part of me aside. A lesson learned in stride.

Aug 222013
 

A man named Johnny Red drove her to private school every day since she was old enough to go. They went in a big black car. She liked the way it shined and never put finger prints on it. Everyone usually went through a car line, but Johnny Red got to pull right up to the front door to drop her off, and he would always be there to pick her up.

She told Johnny Red all about her day, showed him her pictures, drawings. He drove and their conversations were jovial. She loved Johnny Red. He was her friend.

When she got home, she’d go to the kitchen for a snack with her Mother. Her Father would come from his office and praise her, their only child, for something as simple as an endless row of whatever letter of the alphabet her class happened to be working on at the time. Afterwards, her Father would go back to his office. He did his business in his office. She wasn’t allowed in her Father’s office.

She never knew a credit card, only stacks of cash, nice and straight, in large bills, wrapped carefully. She once told a schoolmate that her Father was a banker. The older she got, the more she heard about who her Family really was. All of her Family.This thing of ours. She heard terms and learned never to ask what they meant. The meaning would come in time, heartbreakingly. She began to get used to comings and goings in her home. Meetings. Exchanges. Who was a friend of who. Who was a friend of ours.

One of her final days as a student, she came out to greet Johnny Red and instead was met with a face she didn’t recognize. She stopped in her tracks and ran inside, screaming for her Father. He met her, rushing from his office. She was breathless and afraid, stumbling over how Johnny Red wasn’t at the car. Someone was inside the gates. She didn’t know him! Her Father hung his head and nodded, adding a comforting arm to her shoulders as he explained that Johnny Red wasn’t going to be around anymore. And how Salva was a friend of ours. He would take over for Johnny Red.

Years of unexplained attachment to her beloved driver rushed over her and released in tears and demands that she’d never made of anyone before, especially her Father. He grabbed her by both arms and gave her a shake, a jolt back to reality. Their reality. Johnny Red wasn’t a friend of ours anymore. Her heart sank and met her stomach on the way down. He had been someone’s work.

She didn’t want to be a friend of anyone’s.

No one should be a friend of hers.

Jan 082013
 

Cum and ScentShe smelled like cum and naivete. If you turned your head just right you’d catch an easy mingling of her perfume and sweat.

Unforseen wet spots marked battles won and lost across her sheets. She wasn’t ready to get up, but couldn’t find comfort in a place that was so freshly marked.

The wetspots would wash away. The cum would rinse down the drain.

Just don’t forget my name.

May 102010
 

Trust is like a piece of paper, once it’s been crumpled up, it can never be completely flattened out again. It can never be thin and perfect. It can never flutter beautifully and be new. It’s it’s used and creased in a thousand places. Any tiny emotion can hide and fester in the many crevices. Thus begins …The Trust Issue.

I have to wonder if trust will ever stay fully intact (like that perfect sheet of paper) in any kind of real, long-lasting, honest relationship. There are bound to be a few, if even unintentional, dents and dings to it from time to time. It takes strength to stay with someone when the flowers aren’t in full bloom.

It’s often easier to give someone a second chance than to face the fact that once trust is gone, it’s incredibly hard to get back. The question of whether or not you can trust again can come quickly into play. Often, as soon as an incident has occurred and before both parties (especially the offended party) has time to process the incident; and the many emotions relating to it. One has to recover from the incident which caused the dents and dings to begin with.

Cry.

Be angry.

Get some space.

There’s no pressure to commit to jumping back into trusting anyone. Take your time and feel each emotion associated with the incident that occurred. Don’t let anything fester inside you that might resurface later and turn into baggage, poisoning relationships in the future.

Personally, I just need some time to hurt before I can think about giving someone the chance to dent me again. The fact that you can stay after any ding or dent to the trust that’s already been established says that you have confidence in what you’ve built together. It says that you believe that whatever might have happened to cause the dings or dents in the trust that you had originally built weren’t done maliciously and can be forgiven in hopes of better things to come.

I found myself thinking about how one might prevent from subconsciously building a wall there to guard against any bigger damage. How do you not replay and then resent the dings and dents until you find yourself making them bigger? I think taking your time and working through them is the best answer. If you really want something, you have to work for it, right?

It ain’t easy to invest in another person, especially when they’re asking you and really wanting you to say ‘yes,’ and everyone knows that it’s always harder to tell someone ‘no’, regardless if it’s better for you in the long run. Let’s face it, the majority of us tend to think with our hearts. We give in.

Instead, let me ask you this… “Why should I offer anymore of myself into someone who threw away my initial investment?” It pretty much goes against everything I preach to my mirror about self worth and the importance of knowing who you are and what you stand for. Where do you draw the line? Who do you cross that line for?

“Truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.”~ Bob Marley