He has many ways of torturing me.
Today, he came by for 5 minutes.
A suddenly discovered 5 minutes snatched from a busy schedule.
A serendipitous 5 minutes when he found himself passing nearby.
He looked at me.
He touched me.
He bent me over the corner of the navy blue sofa.
He spanked me with a paperback copy of a Shakespeare comedy.
He showed me the knife for the very first time.
My belly met the tip.
He didn't cut me.
He just scared me.
Which was the whole point, I think.
He was teaching me something.
And this time the lesson was very clear.
Then he very deliberately pressed a big red button and gave me an assignment to phone him and tell him something that had me sobbing hysterically into his voice mail until the time ran out. I don't even know when the time ran out. I was crying so hard and begging and pleading and professing my love that I never heard when the time ran out.
And it was exactly what I needed. It served his purpose, it advanced my training, he was ever so pleased. But it also gave me the catharsis I needed after the shock of being laid off.
As I have said elsewhere, I do not take well to rejection.
Of any sort.
It is a very weak spot for me.
Whether deliberately or not,
the fiend gave me an outlet for the violence of my anguish.
I am sure he would deny that this played any part in his stopping by or in the little scene he chose to play out. I am sure he would insist that it was just a mini-version of a long-planned next step in my training. And it is true that he does meticulously plan my progress and becomes quite annoyed should any circumstance disrupt the progress of said plan. Nevertheless, this was not the first time that something purported to have been designed to serve his needs managed to help me as well.
Felicitous accidents do happen.
I'll leave it at that.