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slave (sl„v) n. 1. One bound in servitude as the property of a person or website.
2. One abjectly subservient to a specified person or influence.
I lie still. No light penetrates my hood. He has bound me so tightly, I am unable to move. The gag he forced into my mouth swallows my voice, my sounds. He keeps me this way because it pleases him to do so, because he is bored and my body has become his amusement, his playground.
I wonder where he is now.
I concentrate, bringing all of my attention to my wrist. After much struggle, I shift the pressure, a movement measured in increments. Blood surges into my arm. I move in ways so small that even if you were watching, you would not see, would not understand the increasing luster in my mind brought on by the strain of my position. Nor would you perceive the reasons why all of this brings me toward him, not away, and how, as the moments pass, my desires are pared back. Because at first, I wanted nothing less than release. But he has not come. And I find myself whittling away at my hope, my expectations. I think I would be satisfied with little more than a whisper from him, or a touch. Just one finger, I bargain with him in my mind, or the loosening of one turn of the rope.
And each of these small wishes, these annihilating hopes, combined with the things that I endure, increase my devotion, my adoration, my desire to please.
A kiss, I say out loud in the silent hush of my mind. A kiss would be more than I could ever hope. And the seconds pass like hours, the hours like days, and the long years flow about me as breath, as nothing, dissolving in my mind. I see how I exist within some unknown intermediary world.
I shift the pressure again, then hold my breath. What did I hear?
His body lies upon my own. His weight transforms my shape, twisted by his rope.
His lips touch my ear.
I am your master now, he says
I decide when you eat and when you drink.
I decide if you can move at all. You orgasms are mine, your mouth, your lips, your hands and arms. I control your bowels. I decree when you may move or stay still. I give you pain and I give you pleasure. And I remove from you whatever I desire.
He closes off my nostrils and covers my mouth so I can't breathe. I try to buck him off, but can't move a muscle.
He laughs and lets go.
Mine. All mine, he says. I am cutting you to pieces. I am destroying you tonight, tomorrow, and all the days beyond. And when I put you back together, you will be new, fresh, a resemblance of you. But that is all.
He waits. His fingers caress mine.
I sigh.
Just as suddenly as he arrived, he is gone.
Now I feel I have been eaten by dogs.
Now I am caught in a terrible joy.
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