i am standing before him, as he sits on the couch, and she is slumped next to him, her head at his shoulder. My hands are bound comfortably behind my back, fingertip to elbow, close to my spine, the rope lacing over and under my breasts. My legs are only as wide as my pantyhose will allow, stretched knee to knee, held captive by the boots i wear. He has unshackled her, and my eyes fall naturally to her breasts as he croons and teases her. She is burrowing into him, not wanting to look at me, not wanting to acknowledge his cruel words. And he tells her to touch me.
Her face twists in disgust, and then, as he takes her fingers and places them directly on my clitoris, her pretty lips contort with confusion and fear. And i wonder, for the hundredth time tonight whether i should call a halt, and release her from her torture. His sadism knows no bounds, and i know exactly how her world is falling to pieces, and i wonder if he really sees her turmoil at all. But i am too far gone to take control, and i shut my eyes to better feel her, as she nudges me begrudgingly, whimpering softly to let him know how she suffers.
He is now forcing her to place her fingers inside of me, whilst she twists to hide her face completely, and squeezes her eyes tightly shut. i catch a glimpse of her welling tears that refuse to fall, before i let myself go, allow myself to forget my observations, move against her and cry out. He is pleased with my performance, and lavishes me with praise as she recoils. She is horrified to have made me come.
He makes me thank her directly. It is a great act of will for her to give a strangled you're welcome in return. In fact, he makes her repeat herself, over and over, until her voice is loud and clear. i try not to confront her with my gaze. i fear it may be too much for her. He announces that i am bound to return the favor, but as luck would have it i am unable to use my hands. She bulks as it becomes clear to us both.
i am amazed at the calm from which i find myself observing the scene. Surely i should be as terrified and tearful as she is, surely my world should be crumbling down around me. But it isn't. How it is possible, i do not know, but i am enraptured by every moment. i am playing a role, and in this role, i do as i am told.
i move to stand in front of her, as he forces her to sit back and open herself widely to me. As i kneel she begs with solemn eyes, and choked back sobs, not to have endure such awful degrading defilement. She is on the brink of loosing all control, and i pause to contemplate whether he is pushing her too far.
He bids me to continue, and so i am no longer in the position to consider anything other than what i am instructed to do.
i loose the ability to hear even his voice as i lean close to her, and breathe on her. The tension is palpable.
i reach out to comfort her with the only thing i am able to offer: my tongue. with every stroke i whisper encouragement, i offer my support, i promise my compassion. And she slowly opens to me, unwilling, screaming with every nerve in her body. But i know her, i know her as well as i know myself, as well as i have known any woman, intimately.
for the first time in my life, i am not overwhelmed or assaulted by the scent of a woman. i begin to slowly explore her, and he comments on my technique as i find her rhythm and bury myself in her. i allow my tongue to invade her more deeply, encountering the fluids that are by now dripping down my chin.
i do not dare look up, as i withdraw for a brief moment, to see for myself how wet she is becoming, but i can hear her moans as i draw them out from her. small and soft and hesitant, giving way to long notes accentuated by heart wrenching sobs as she peaks. She is thrashing, holding on to him with tightly clenched fists, fighting me all the way, but i triumphantly drive her home. And eventually i am stretching her orgasm one minute after the other, until he is satisfied.
She is forced to whisper a thank you, and my you're welcome is softly and lovingly returned, even though she will not look at me. But he is cupping my face in his hands, kissing me gratefully, as i grin, and i know he can feel the wetness covering me. And there is a look of pride i have never encountered before, and whether this is pride in my behavior or pride in my performance, i don't know, but i am filled with warmth and satisfaction.
i've been a very good girl.



-----

during eventful weeks such as this one, there is so much more to come.

"what are you thinking?"
his arm is curled underneath me, holding me up, but my head is still against the covers, and my nose is pouring. i am always gushing when he is here.
and i tell him i was thinking i'd like him to hit me again.
he is surprised. and tells me so. says he'd never have known.
but this time he will not use the cane and this disappoints me. i hate the cane. i can hardly stand it. but when he gives me a little time like this, i can take it. i want to take it.
i am lying on my belly and he is laying into me. flat palm against my buttocks, up onto my coccyx, over my kidneys. it starts hard and gets harder. i sigh with each strike.
yes. harder. harder.
until i cannot take it anymore, and his hand has locked over the rope midway down my back, holding me firmly down. i am squirming and pulling one way and then the next. until i cannot bear it. but, yes, harder. i want you to hurt me.
i reach the limit. my tears flow freely. and my goddamned nose produces the most incredible amounts of mucous.
and as soon as he stops i wish he would continue.
i have cracked.
i am broken.
i am coming apart at the seams
and i don't know where it all came from
i sob
i bury my head into the mattress
and i do not feel high
i feel miserable
i feel like i have made a mistake
i am drowning in a million things i cannot put my thumb on
and i am confusing the hell out of him.
and though i am silent and unable for the life of me to tell him the things i am feeling here in my little black hole, i want to say: "if you do not love me, if you do not care, don't smile at me, don't hold me. hit me. fuck me. hurt me. i feel i am like nothing here."
i cannot submit to you anymore
i hate you
and i don't know why

my house is in a tree
suspended somewhere amongst its branches
wrapped around the trunk
with a creaky wooden floor
and gratings
gaps wide and gaping
and i can stare down to the river
that meanders around the roots
and the boulders
and i see myself falling

there are animals who visit me
and family and friends
all disguised as each other
all exchanging pelts
and standing on each others backs...
i live with a bear
and he is terrified of the floor caving in

we are running
from something
a cloud of gas
and it finds us
and we all fall down
asleep
except for one man
who picks a pretty girl
in a red dress
and takes her
takes us all
in a predestined
rape

i am with you
feeling you behind me
coming up around me
and growing
and growing
and i open my mouth
to receive you
what bliss
to finally have you
in my dream world
and when you leave
you promise to return
and you leave your goggles behind
lying on my bed

and you return to a banquet
seated next to a woman
who hates me
a woman i do not trust

and something strange is happening
i am splitting into two
one of me is seated at a mirror
putting on makeup
she is young
and innocent
and breaking apart
she is about to confront you
and i see my reflection
another me
older
and wiser
and perhaps more than jaded
almost her mother
as i ask her what bothers her
as i hold her head in my hands
and try to explain
that to fight
is a futile struggle

but i wake
having never found out
what happened
why my heart was breaking
why my composure was crumbling
why i was begging myself
to be blind...

i am here
i will describe the scene to you
it is a half dark and underground series of rooms
with no windows and few lights
so that should you attempt a photograph
your camera would rebel
and the flash would destroy the scene

i am here
she sits upon the padded table
it is furnished in leather
and has extended arms of wood
meant for wax play
and high so that her feet
do not touch the floor

i am here
told to climb up on to my knees
beside her
and lean over her
so that she can lift my skirt
i put my weight on my elbows
and grip the handles

i am here
bent over her
as many gather to watch her expose me
and leave her mark on me
and watch me smile at her caresses
and gasp with each strike
to listen to her words

i am here
and i yearn to be brought to beg
to be brought to tears
to need to be held in place
for though i obey
and treasure being subjected to her whims
she is not as cruel as you

i am here
realizing i have learned
to love my torture...

-

the weather has suddenly become cold again, after threatening us with a formidable summer, and we are all relieved it is truly august. i am rustling through, hovering over objects and clothing, trying to decide what to pack, what is necessary. i have very limited luggage concessions. my cat misses me. i miss my cat. we have been apart only a few hours. i wait for a word, the sounds of my phone receiving a long awaited message. nothing. he had a question and i want to know what it was. want desperately to know before i leave. am i so easily held captive?

i have been on hiatus. but there is so much to write of. i fear i will be too graphic, too descriptive and confronting. that perhaps i will disgust you. but that doesn't matter quite as much anymore, does it? i will resume. but i warn that it will be an overwhelming experience for us both. my world has become one of extremes. a balance of extremes. they tear apart and reform my mind, so i can only imagine the damage they may do you. i apologize in advance, once and only now. but it must be put outside of myself. and this journal has always been the wastelands of my need to scream, to cry, to moan with pleasure. you may not want to hear it.

i am tiptoeing along a wire. razor sharp. no net to catch me. i do not know what i am walking towards, only that i had to let go and step out into the thin air... o i could be walking towards an ecstasy... or a trap. the only way to know is to reach the other side. my will, and my nerve, are taunt... shrieking with fear of the unknown.

i am finally putting my trust, my body, my life, into the hands of another. whether this is because it is right, or because i need to, is something i am yet to find out. i follow instinct that does not always serve me well. but i find i need to follow it, need to allow myself to live pleasure and pain. need to risk everything. need to find balance. need to step out of my safe lonely isolation. i am terrified, and yet cannot help but indulge.

my journey may take me to a peak, or dash me upon the unforgiving chasm. but i must make this journey. i am prepared for anything.

the sun is finally peaking through my window and warming my bed where my cat stretches and tries to absorb as much warmth as she can before it is sucked through the floorboards into the night. i hope it touches you too, where you are. such a simple and welcomed pleasure. i wish i could fly north with the birds during winter, be migratory and always warm.

between all mountains are valleys. and all crows under heaven are black.