The Window- Part One

I always used to think, that when people like us played. It was somewhere dark away from prying eyes.
A basement. A locked room. A dungeon filled with things that I'm sure I would never know half the names of or would have to ask every time- which one is that? Or of this was okay.
I know now that it's different. Indicative by the warm sunlight streaming in through the wide window that seeps across my skin. Like drinking a nice hot cup of tea in reverse- warmed from the toes up. It's easy to see how a cat could never move for hours.
Not that we weren't in the same position, mind you, the cat and myself. Though the cat choose to be there; I, with ankles strapped tight to the legs of this chair, really have no choice in the matter. No boots just the straps, I can still wiggle my toes- all ten just where I left them- though I'm not so sure if I feel relieved over the fact I can still count my toes but it gives me something to do, with no way to whistle around the obstruction in my mouth and no way to enjoy the view outside from the blindfold- it was well enough that I could find some way to keep myself calm, occupied.
There's no real noise except the sounds of the house creaking under it's own weight. Old joints groaning; exhausted and I can't help but sympathize my joints would be weary as well if I was to remain in one spot of such an extended period of time.
Oh wait. Maybe I'm missing the point of the exercise. I think before you left you said something about thinking about what I did. But I don't quite recall, I've been much too busy being concerned about sunlight and the house's skeletal system to really reflect on it. Nor do I recall you telling me what I've done, and we both know how poor my memory is.
That was probably it. I'm unfocused and forgetful. The milk I left on the counter while I went and did something else, forgetting to tell you my schedule, missing hours and coming home late, and the cherry on top of drizzling it all so heavy with apologies that enough was enough. That's why I'm here. See, I knew I could remember... eventually.
Part of me wishes I knew how long you would be gone, and part of me doesn't want to think about what will happen when we will communicate with nods and muffled noises, and the reaction of flesh to punishment. Not an uncommon thing, but it still makes my skin crawl with anticipation and a twisting sensation in my gut, and I wonder for a brief moment if you can see me here from the window.
I'm scared.
It's good.
I know you've always hated how nervous I get in public. The hand wringing, the inability to make coherent sentences, and the bratty mouthiness a final coup de grâce on what seemed to be limitless patience. It's always a slip of the tongue and a whisper of Just wait till we get home a soft threat, and that leads us here.
Somewhere in the living room. Some distance from the cold, clear panes of glass immeasurable by the feeling of the light alone. Thin windows separating this world from that one. A feeble attempt at shifting, foiled by the heavy bands, belts and ties chaining me to the chair. I was most definitely wrong about my former opinions about the basements. Completely wrong, and yet- completely fine with that fact. I suppose I can be wrong once or twice.
After what feels like hours but was more than likely only minutes I can hear your car pull in to the driveway. I wonder where you went for so long- but knowing I probably shouldn't ask or question push it from my mind. Another stir, and another attempt to close my legs, a fresh wave of shyness washing over me. This is embarrassing. This is too exposed. I worry what you will think of me this indecent, this vulnerable, this-
The door clicks. My mind goes blank focusing instead on a heart beating a mile a minute, a suffocated dizzy feeling enveloping me. A muffled noise. Footsteps. And no one to welcome you home.

I think it's high time I made a bit of a thing about my first... let's call it a D/s relationship for lack of better words. Now we're only calling it that tentatively and you'll read why in a minute. Of course I'm leaving some parts out- it's already going to be long; these are just more notable examples.

Of course when you love someone you want them to know about you, you want them to know your ins and outs and you want them to have you for who you are, you shouldn't have to hide anything from one another because love is all about trust. If I can't trust you- I most certainly don't want to fuck you and I don't want to be around you. That's the way it works no ifs ands or buts about it.

She told me a lot about herself, and years down the line I would find out that most of the things she trusted me with were lies and I really had learned nothing at all about her; but I was young and stupid so went along with what she told me. I listened to her and let her cry on my shoulder because that's what I'm good for, a comforting shoulder and an ear to listen.

I finally cracked one night while laying in her bed and told her about my desires, my wishes, what I wanted in a relationship- and was promptly laughed at, ridiculed, and was told I was a perverse and disgusting person- that it wasn't going to happen. Trying my best to keep my wits about me I laughed and had nodded and told her I understood, and that I was worry for ruining the mood.

A few days later I would find out that she had said what she said due to a past relationship of hers where she had been collared and she hadn't enjoyed it. In a facade of her trying to be for me what I wanted out of her- she presented me with my first collar; tag and all. The tag read "Violet" it was HER collar. Her old collar, the one she had been bound to her old flame with that she snapped around my neck and told me I now belonged to her. Young and stupid, I nodded and let her do this; I was eager and she was half heartedly playing along.

No one asked me about limits. There was no talk of hard limits or soft limits or what I liked and what I didn't like, there was only talk of what she expected out of me- what I would do for her without question; what I would be forced to do and how I would be punished if I didn't comply. This is where I should have taken my first hint that this was wrong. But of course; I didn't.

I was made to do a lot of things I wasn't comfortable with. I was made a spectacle; an object with no objections that would be listened to. This wasn't what I wanted; or what I had expected. I took the verbal abuse and I took her playing with my mind and emotions because I was scared of leaving her or saying no to her as she had already made the consequences quite clear to me. And in her old collar, I sat, and I was obedient as I listened to a mantra of good girl over and over again.

Anyone who knows me knows one of my harder limits is being on film. Video. Pictures. Anything- I hate it. Back then; this wasn't an issue. It didn't become an issue until I found out that she had been covertly filming us and sending the video feeds off to her boyfriend (who i didn't know about at the time) as an example of what she could do. I was being made a fool of, being made an example of, and I was unwise to all of it until a good little birdy I used to be friends with brought it up in a fight, and it all spilled on the table- videos, pictures and everything.

She used to lead me on a leash- the collar was control the leash was for her to keep me close; I told her I didn't want it and I got the silent treatment. I was ignored for a month and I wasn't allowed to contact her until I had decided I was ready to listen, I panicked, I buckled, and told her she could. It wasn't until she lead me to school that I had had enough- I took off the collar. I refused to wear it; and told her it was enough. The school was too far.

Of course I was punished for it. And I didn't care. I didn't care anymore.

It was by this point I has started receiving e-mails from her boyfriend, who i knew from school and he had begun to make my life miserable, threats, insults and the works.She used me as a pawn between them without my knowledge. I didn't know they were even dating until she threatened to leave me for him. That she was polyamorous and could find anyone she wanted- so she didn't need to stick my rules of monogamy. Now maybe I'm old school; but... if you're polyamorous, and are in a relationship, you should probably tell the other person otherwise it's cheating; you know keeping one lover secret from the other hmm?

After that fight we reconsilled. I was okay- for the most part with Zero. I fucking hated him. But I was okay with her wants and wishes- though I still refused to wear the collar and she still punished me for it. It wasn't until I was sat down and made to watch her suck his cock that I became uncomfortable with this relationship. That she wanted me to join. She wanted him and I to fuck.

I'm not really in to men. I can cuddle one, I can have an aesthetic attraction to one, friends, etc but when it comes down to fucking- I don't like it. I'm not comfortable with it due to my own gender issues (which at this time were being carefully held under wraps) but I went along with it. I walked in to it under the pressure and scrutiny of them. Rushed whispers and judging glances; I did what she told me to. And I hated every goddamn second of it. And she knew it. She knew I didn't like men, and I felt utterly degraded. I realized at that point I was nothing more than a toy to her. A faithful dog on a short leash tied together with threats and fear and a beaten pride. And his hand on my head and cheek whispering "Good Girl"

Sadly though, if you beat a dog enough- they bite back.

I bit back; hard- and her boyfriend won't forget it any time soon I would hope.

We did break up, under her word, how I never paid attention to her and we never did any of the things she liked or spent any time together. How her life was miserable and it was my fault. Zero hated me after that and that was fine it was a mutual hate; and I couldn't blame him after what I did.

Shame she never learned from her mistakes.

This is nothing new
The intoxicating taste of wasted wishes
Complimented by liqour against dampened skin
As you whisper appologies
That are empty unripened fruit heavy
Smi eyyou slurrrsmil ey
Against my chest; a murmur
Youre incomprehensible
We are in a haze a cloud teetering on the edge of regret
And firm desire for an excape we have not yet tried
From the crippling loneliness after
Doing too many shots of depression and insecurity
And yet you still wouldnt look at me
Though i could feel your breath as we
Made quick memories that i would lay to rest
Spoken in to a locked box nd shoved away on a shelf to be forgotten
In behind those bottles overabundant with fresh doses of guilt
We were lost puzzle pieces
Desperately trying to find the rigt place to fit so we could have a chance
To see the whole picture, childish wishes
Of bullshit for what we wantedWandering the the darkness in your room
Beneath the covers still too heavy to peel away even after you leave
And i try desperately to speak with you
Silence guttering over the sound of a muffled appology

And a silent agreement that we never speak of it again

Signed on the dotted line.

We sit
Across the table we make small jokes
as if we were feathers falling on a frozen pond
too light to break the ice
you say it was my sister who told you
because she and I never had the kind of relationship
that would ever allow for secrets
and I wished I could have told you about November
so that you and I would be in the same position
as when that night at the bar
when I wished you could love me sober; and
you spoke softly of
the
a
f
f
a
i
r
in a morse code of laughter and dappled with suicide
“.. / -.. .-. . .- -- . -.. / - .... . / -- . - .- .-..”
an empty cup
“.-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / - .- ... - . / ... --- / --. --- --- -..” you would say.
It scared me to be scared for you.
Knowing I was going to leave again and not knowing we would come to this
night at a table where
we speak in nothing but riddles and rhymes and
I spill secrets on to the table like they were trading cards
we became kids on a playground
built on top of a frozen ocean
we were the drug dealers behind the bushes clambering for a fix
and I was looking for a fix that I knew you couldn't give me.

We look down in to empty glasses
I inhale sharply.
Trying to suck those secrets back in as if they were smoke and freedom
And I wish I could have spoken sober.