It’s your presence that captured me first. I was yours before you even noticed me. But once I had your attention, you made sure to remind me with a simple look whom I belonged to.
Relaxing into the dynamics that were so palpably present between us, it felt like pieces of a puzzle finally fell into place. Shapeless desires I’d had in relationships started to become defined. And it became clearer why I didn’t often feel deep intimacy with the men I slept with. But I did now. For the first time in a long time I felt potential. But the instant you made it painfully clear that this feeling wasn’t mutual, my puzzle that had so effortlessly fallen into place during our conversations and interactions, got scattered again.
You asked for my trust and I gave it without hesitation, despite the complications that were clearly visible. But I wanted to surrender. I wanted to share my vulnerability. I wanted you to wake my body with pain and pleasure. Your hands around my neck were a comfort; a sign of connection and trust instead of a threat. Your warnings of possible reprimands sparked arousal and smiles. I gladly fell into your demands, because in return you were there to catch me, carry me and share pleasure with. Or at least that’s what I thought.
Maybe your blindfold actually stopped me from seeing that we weren’t playing. You were just playing me. Apparently when we talked about future interactions, activities and scenes, you didn’t necessarily envision doing them with me. Instead of throwing me onto your bed, you now just tossed me aside. And this time you didn’t even care enough to catch me. Nor were you there to carry me to comfort as I was sobbing. The tears streaming down my face this time, weren’t tears of catharsis or release. These tears didn’t well up in gratitude of the pain you were inflicting on me. Because all the times you spanked me, flogged me and peeled away all layers till I was emotionally completely naked in front of you… all of that summed up together didn’t even compare to the pain your obvious lack in empathy inflicted on me now. This time however, there was no safe-word to make it stop. Regardless, it’s the only word that was audible through my sobs: Red.
Shackled, and choked up,