Bondage

I’ve been tied down for years now

Not in a sense where it is mutual and understanding

But more so like a slave bowing down

To his master.

The relationship is dark.

It is sadistic.

Everyday he latches

shackles on my ankles,

not basic handcuffs

Instead, he insists I am weighted down by

His ball and his chain.

He pushes my hands behind my back and

secures them into place using a fine

twine

Knotted for his own reassurance it wont come

undone.

But I am to weak to escape even the most

delicate of materials.

I cannot move.

He ties me to the bed post

and puts the blindfold

over my eyes.

I cannot see.

Im nervous.

Im terrified.

Horrified.

Mortified.

My breathing amplified,

paralyzed

and then he terrorizes me

until I bleed.

Leaving permanent marks all along

my arms and my thighs.

THE PAIN.

Oh, the pain hurts, but it hurts so good.

I give in and let him take me.

On top of me he climbs

and pushes himself into me

we are intertwined

we are one.

He thrusts deeper inside,

penetrating as far as he can go

as if he can feel

himself from within.

He moves into me quicker and quicker,

deeper and deeper.

I cannot take it anymore.

I cry out

“STOP!”

He doesnt listen.

Still, he goes

faster and faster

He wont stop until he accomplishes his goal

to cum

into me, and tear me down,

Break me.

I lose control.

Hes reached his climax

And I ….

I’ve reached my low.

I orgasm and release

saddening relief and helplessness.

As he contemplates his next move

I ruminate on mine.

Im running out of time.

The answer has been lifted.

Blindfold removed.

Rope cut.

Uncuffed.

I am free! Yet, I still

Feel bound to him.

Stockholm Syndrome.

I am numb.

I feel so dumb.

I should get up and

run away.

This is no way to live.

I need to forgive

and forget;

Yet, I need him.

He is a part of me

that I cant see.

He will never leave

And continue to dominate me

As long as I let him.

Maybe…

Just Maybe

I can find the strength

to climb on top.

The pain

hurt

and discomfort would end

and i could bend

and break

each mistake

I continue to make

to form it into

something new.

Something foreign.

Something I have never experienced before.

Something I have never touched with my soul.

Something not even my senses can fathom.

…Love…

Love?

Yes. Love.

Not with a man

or woman

But with someone much more grand.

Someone who can take me by the hand

and slow me down when everything seems to

be spinning out of control,

and the thoughts of returning back to the

dominant one

overflow

my mind.

A love with myself.

I now trust myself.

There is no lust with myself.

I have learned to forgive myself

for clinging so tightly onto you,

dear, Dear depression.

I am now tied to no one but myself

and you no longer rule

my life.

I commit to love.

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