Relax
We’re all fucked up. It’s only mass denial that keeps us from falling apart from moment to moment. But that same denial makes us think that we’re along, that our fucked up is special, unique, and utterly atypical. That somehow we've managed to come out of childhood and make it to adulthood the only ones with neurosis, insecurities and a handful of bad shit.
This is a way to let that denial slip for a moment. To finally take a breath and realize that it doesn't matter, that you can get better. That this is a way, however perverse, depraved or kinky, to expunge the pent up tension in your fucking soul and let out that breath you've been holding for decades, holding so long that it hurts, a deep ache that’s become the rhythm to which your life beats out. It’s a purging, pain washing over you like fire, to leave you fragile and new. Naked, but not alone.
So don’t shy away, little girl. Be brave, just for a moment, and let me in. Once I’m there, you don’t have to be brave any more. You just have to be, and to exist, and through all that, finally get the catharsis that you've needed your whole life.
Any man can be trained to give a girl what could possibly be the most technically flawless fucking of her life, but if he doesn't know what to whisper in her ear when he’s behind or how to look at her when he’s inside, then it doesn't really matter.
A Little Reverence
She’d got quiet, the instant he guided her through the threshold and into the cage. Her mouth, usually so loose and free, with quips and sarcastic comments coming out in a torrent, was suddenly stopped. He wasn’t sure if it was some sudden realization, or if it rested on a deeper level.
If he was forced to guess, he’d describe the look on her face as reverence. As if she’d just wandered into a cathedral, the sound of her voice amplified a thousand times, to reach the very heaven’s themselves. Each sacrilegious giggle and mutter feels like an infraction, and so she’d keep quiet. The cage was a church to her. If he was forced to guess.
It was the smile on her face that flickered and wavered that most intrigued him, though. He wanted to know it, to trace every single electrical impulse and find the thoughts that made it flash and flutter like a badly connected light bulb. She was hesitant, not quite ready to enjoy the experience, and that interested him. His curiosity was piqued.
“Why…” The instant he spoke he regretted it. The reverence was infectious, and it was coursing through his system just as strong as hers, and he hadn't even noticed. And so his question hung in the air, half finished, and formless, just a stem.
But her smile had solidified, become real and fixed, and she was looking up at him. Because he understood, because they were in a shared space, even if he was on the other side of the bars. Because she was where she wanted to be, where she belonged.
And then she looked away, and he lost her to the isolation of it all. She became the animal in the enclosure, to be observed and watched, ogled at, but not interacted with. Not until he opened that door and let her out.
That was how she wanted it to be. And that was why he had placed her there. He took a step back, rubbing his chin and smiling, although he couldn't quite tell why.
