Sixty-Eight

“Open up.”

He slips a ball-gag into my mouth.

I’m lying.

Facedown.

Naked.

Tied to a four-poster bed.

He slips on the blindfold.

My world reduces to darkness.

Then, the headphones magically appear in my ears.

The sounds of sweet, melancholy orchestra filling my soul.

He touches me with something hard, letting me know it’s beginning.

Whack. Whack.

The force billows through my body.

I grunt, feral noises escaping my lips.

Noises I never knew I had in me.

I no longer feel like the desperate, wretched girl I did when I walked in.

I feel strong.

I feel fearless.

But I’m so, so lost.

I don’t have to feel it to know it’s true.

I can see how people get lost in this.

But I need to get out, before I get stuck.

I’m just not sure I want to.

He moves through several items, using each one to stimulate me in new ways.

Gloves with needles on the palms.

Whips. Floggers. Paddles.

A violet wand, for zapping.

And I drown in every movement.

Forgetting more and more whom I was when I walked in.

Embracing the magic of losing myself to something bigger than myself.

He takes out the headphones.

He’s untying me.

First one ankle, then the other.

Then the gag and the mask.

Finally, the wrists.

And I’m back.

The brightness of this world is harsh.

It’s not loud enough.

I do not want to be back.

He pulls me into him, rubbing the places he just desecrated.

Making me more aware of my depravity.

I am wordless.