He took every abuse I administered. He consumed my violence with the same want, willingness, and grace with which he consumes my kindness and my kisses.
At what was supposed to be the end of the evening, after he had opened up and offered himself, he rested on his side, restrained at the wrists and ankles.
I lay down next to him and our contrasts came into sharp focus. He was naked, bound, and had given all he had. I was clothed, unrestrained, and had taken everything I wanted.
I expected his exhaustion, blurry edges, and some sort of vacant relief.
Instead, I turned towards him and my eyes met the sweetest smile and the most eager, clear, beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
My breath caught in my throat and I had to look away to spare myself (to spare both of us) the flood of feeling. Looking away didn’t help. My lower lip began to quiver and stinging tears threatened to escape their boundaries.
(Here’s the thing: I don’t cry. I rarely cry. I have nothing against it–it’s not some point of pride. I just don’t.)
Last night, I was so close to tears that it frightened me. I can’t quite explain it other than to say I felt broken. Not generally broken, but broke open, raw and exposed. He’s supposed to be the one who breaks–not me. Yet, I felt like I was breaking. The love of him (and the want for him) threatened to melt me completely. It was overwhelming. He is overwhelming–his beauty, his submission, his devotion, and his willingness to be mine. He nearly breaks me with his want to be taken, his want to be had.
I love him for it. Hard.
But I’m also selfish and self-centered in ways I wish I wasn’t.
In the moments after fighting tears, I realized how much I envy him. I envy him for his ability to inspire such a torrent of emotions in another human being. I’m jealous of how much he is loved. To be the object of such maddening want, such violent fascination, and such possessive love–I can’t imagine being so loved and wanted. As it is, my mind and body are barely capable of processing what I feel for him. I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to be him, to be the object of so much emotion.
When the house lights went down and the front lights went up, I wrapped my hand around her neck and tasted her. I was gentle, giving her a moment to open up to me… [read more]
“Hands,” I said, and he immediately crossed his wrists behind him. I wrapped one wrist, secured his other wrist to that one, and then wrapped both with an extra tie… [read more]
8:00 pm:You will enter my home and set your things in the entryway. You will remove all of your clothes, fold them, and leave them with your other personal items… [read more]