She notices sometimes, that when it's dark his mouth is a spider web. The sticky silky words reach out, capture her, endanger her in comfort. His fingers play itsy bitsy spider along her spine. The soft weight of his hands on her chest is warm when it shouldn't be. She feels like a rag doll, limp in his hands, dirty from years of play.
She notices, not for the first time, that the metal is cold and familiar. The clink-clank is like a friend with all her secrets in mind. She feels like a butterfly beneath glass. She'll break her wings if she strokes too hard. The spider web strains and holds and she notices a drop quivering.
It's red.
A shudder explodes in her body. He smiles like a wolf as his tongue slips serenely along his bottom lip. Even in the darkness, his eyes shine like lamplight, fixing her there with her head to the side. His body is a shroud.
She feels like she's dying.
She wishes she were.
"Tell me your dreams." His mouth moves, words like silken strands around her face. He smells like old things and musty earth. His fingers breathe against the swollen punctures, pushing, prodding, dipping. The pain is crisp.
"I don't dream anymore." She finds her voice and it's unused and unfamiliar. Her lips crackle as she moves them. She feels her top lip split with a twinge of pain. She ignores it as thin, coppery blood spreads over her tongue. The taste makes her stomach heave and her head to spin.
"I dream." He waits for her response, but she has leaned back, weak and quiet beneath him. "I dream of you."
"Do you?" She swallows and tries to make out shapes in the darkness. There are monsters in there, she knows it for sure and she wishes they'd taken her as a child. Too late.
"I dream of your mouth." He inches his face toward hers, invading her vision, sharp features in contrast to the dark monsters crouching behind him. "I dream you're reaching for me and you taste like blood."
Spider webs. She watches his mouth, dark and glistening, so near her own. He's never kissed her...all these months of losing time and peace of mind and he's never kissed her.
"I dream you've got nothing inside."
"Nothing?"
"No light, no life. Nothing but fear and death. I like that dream."
He goes quiet and the game of pretending is over. She knows his intentions and she knows she should have seen it coming. It hits her like a bullet and she feels the impact spread throughout her limbs. The parts of her body that touch his feel sunburned. She takes a breath and turns her head to the side once again.
"Do it." She says as she twists her wrists in the chains. The clank is loud in the fathomless room. He sickle-grins and his cold fingers caress her jaw.
"Soon."
Her heart dies.
"Soon." She echoes and watches as his mouth widens and his tongue touches her split lip. She sighs and closes her eyes, then presses her mouth to his.
She remembers, from far away, a night of magic and his mouth. The music still haunts her. It's just the same now, only there's sharpness where there shouldn't be. She doesn't care. He seems surprised, but quickly recovers, devouring her with teeth and tongue. His teeth pierce her lip and she wants to scream, wants to make it all go away.
Instead she kisses him harder, straining against the chains he put on her so long ago. The spider webs spiral down her throat and capture each lung in a dark grip. She doesn't let go, even when he moves his mouth to her neck, the veins throbbing in the scarred flesh. He's marked her many times. She's like a painting.
She tugs at the chains, but they're strong and she is not.
When he bites, she gives in and throws her head back. Pain laces through her, from his mouth to her heart.
It hurts, but she knows the pain like a good friend. It sees her through the days, more familiar than sunlight now. There is no more sunlight.
She feels something heavy and sticky flow down her collarbone. She doesn't question the reality of her situation. She stopped asking questions long before she still had them. What have you done to them? Where am I? Please?
Now there's only his mouth and the pain and the darkness and the inevitable.
He drinks. She drifts.
It's always the same.
And his mouth is always dark...
This passage is beautifully written, compelling, and, at the same time, disturbing and slightly erotic; more disturbing than erotic, however, as she is not happy, only resigned to her fate.
(author unknown)
I am only me; I am sexually submissive. Probably have always been submissive but guilt and shame are wonderful instruments of concealment; at 46, now somewhat comfortable in my skin, it is time to come out of the closet.
I saw a piece of glass; it was lying on the ground; the sun caught its' stained colors of yellow, green and red and tossed them up at me, drenching my face in a prism of gold. It had the effect of mesmerizing me; I stood transfixed on the spot, not able to move but only to stare at this beautiful sharp object at my feet......
I could smell him and taste him although we had never met. He had graciously allowed me to enter the blackness of his soul through words, and I felt comfortable there - like I belonged, like I had returned home after a long absence, not realizing I had been homesick for so many years.
What can I offer?
