Monday, September 26, 2011
He needs to hurt me a little
He will hurt me tomorrow.
He needs to hurt me tomorrow.
He needs to hurt me a little.
I don't think "a little" refers to the extent of his need.
He says it will be "different."
I have no idea what that means.
I scare myself in speculation.
He understands my uneasiness, he says.
He'll try to be careful, he says.
I am his treasure.
I do not doubt that.
He will try to protect me.
But whatever he's going to do, it needs to be done.
It's all my fault, of course.
I knew this would happen.
Because I sent him a picture.
He had given me an assignment on Sunday. When I finished the task, I lay there naked on the bed, deep in that place. The laptop was open on the nightstand next to me, in case he e-mailed while I was working for him, but by the end the screen was black. Empty, except for my reflection as I lay there before it, posed like one of my beloved odalisque paintings. I wished he could see me. Right at that moment.
So I took a picture.
A lot of pictures, actually.
And sent him the best of the lot.
Ignoring the way the position made my neck folds sag.
Knowing what that view of me would do to him.
I know what he likes.
I know what gets to him.
This is part of my job.
As his pet.
As his slave.
To serve him.
To please him.
So I gave him what I know he likes.
And I knew he would want to hurt me.
So I have no one to blame but myself.
On top of which...
Well, you know.
He's going to hurt me.
In a different way than he has till now.
Which scares me.
And arouses me.
And that embarrasses me.
I won't like it while it's happening.
And I'm nervous about it now.
But I... I admit that I want it.
I want him to have that pleasure.
I want him to do to me what needs to be done.
I will offer myself without hesitation.
I will accept whatever he needs to do.
I will trust him to protect me.
I will scream and cry and tell him he's hurting me.
There will be that special intimacy that comes from his hurting me.
And I will be disgustingly, embarrassingly aroused by the memory.