Bondage

I’ve been tied down for years now

Not in the sense that 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 the ones hooked together

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 that it won’t come undone.

But I am too weak to escape even the most delicate of materials.

I cannot move.

He ties me to the bed and puts the blindfold over my eyes.

I cannot see.

I’m nervous.

I’m 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 his self into me.

We are intertwined

We are one

He thrusts deeper inside

penetrating as if he can feel himself from within.

He moves into me quicker and quicker

deeper and deeper.

I can’t take it anymore

I cry out STOP!

He doesn’t listen.

Still he goes faster and faster

he won’t stop until he accomplished his goal;

To cum into me and tear me down.

I loose control.

He’s 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.

I am running out of time.

The anchor has been lifted.

Blindfold removed

Rope cut

Uncuffed

I am free, yet I still feel bound to him.

Stockholm Syndrome.

I’m 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 can’t see.

That you can’t see.

He will never leave

and continue to dominate me

As long as I let him.

Maybe

Just maybe…

I’ll find the strength to climb on top.

The pain, hurt and discomfort could 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

Yes, LOVE.

Not with a woman or a man

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 retreating to the dominate 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 on to you

DEAR, DEAR Depression.

I am now tied to no one but myself

and you no longer rule

my life.

I commit to LOVE.