Hate…

We made love that day.  We fucked.  Slut, whore, daddy, all these words clamored the day and the moment.  You who I controlled, you who knew my heart’s truest desire, laid there and held me in for hours. 

Time went on has time does.  You asked me to go, I left.  You asked me to come to your side, I came.  I provide; the provider, protector, safe. This is who I am.   You called one day and asked me if I would stay at your side.  There in the cold and unfeeling room, I saw my life, my heart, my only need.  Six weeks and 5 days.  Cinco-de- Mayo.  I will never forget. 

Time goes on has time does.  You call, not for aid, but to tell me that you are not well.  To tell me the doctors said that you could take this pill and feel better in 24 hours.  You asked me to stay away.  As always, I provided for what you needed.

24-hours, seems so long sometimes.  Whatever there was in me that was human died in less.

The Drive…

I was tired.  Eyes heavy, drifting into the blackness, I thought of her.   The rain was cold, bitter even although it had a sense of warmth about it.  It seemed like hours since I left that place.  The engine roared like some large monster waiting for its next meal as I made my way back.  Songs on the radio, thoughts in my head, my hand ached from before.  Cecelia had wanted me to go.  I had made her feel all that she needed… wanted.  Why do I break the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen?  What do I bleed but skin and flesh?  When do I sleep but after the kneeling, begging, cries, of her release?

Another side of me...

As she walked into the coffee house, her finger tips gripped at the constant reminder of her lover’s gift causing her to smile, she recalled the evening before….

It was how he had come into room. Quietly, slowly, patiently, he moved as though he carried no worries with him. Sliding back into a more upright position, she sat there, quiet, waiting for him… looking down. She could hear him across the room seeing only shadows of his movements. That night - she was quiet. He had always liked her to be silent. She listened, waiting, still - she dare not move, she could not see him, she dared not to look, and she dare not disobey.

He could see her slender form shadowed by her corset. Her shoulders soft and smooth showed him the way, skin has pale as winter’s day, her eyes, deep pools of green. As he approached her he could see her anticipating his touch, his voice, his scent, he waited. “Close your eyes” he said, her eyes closed. He reached his strong arms around her body picking her up from the stool, placing her in his arms he carried her, for what seemed like hours, until they stopped. She was sitting on his lap, she could feel his hands gripping her tightly, she moved. “Be Still” he said, she listened.

Her eyes still closed she could feel the soft touch of linen against her skin; -another memory. In his lap she could feel his course and she felt herself blush has her wetness was displayed. He placed is hand between her feeling her every essence, she moaned, he moved with subtle strokes. Opening her legs fully, he spun her around facing away. Her body tightened, cautious, she was slow to move the way her lover intended. Now facing away she felt the soft touch of satin cover her eyes. She remembered the red room, his teachings, and no sight-release.

“Give me your hands”, he said placing her hands one inside the other behind her just close enough so she could feel his strength. So close now-so close. Taking a small piece of fine rope he laced her hands together. He pulled back her hair, so strong…

Cecilia had no choice; she was in the control of her lover.