Friday, 22 June 2007

A Sad Story

Fantasies can't all be roses and, well, whatever. It lies in the power of imagination that it sometimes puts in your head stories and ideas that are a tad more serious than the ordinary spanking story.

This is a sad story about being without love. Still I like it and it expresses something about me. But, remember, it is just fiction!

'Goodbye,' he said.
Then he left.

He will never come back. I know that. Never again will I hear him come through the door, his well known footsteps on the stairs. He will never come back.

Never again will I feel his arms around me, his embrace, the touch that made me feel small an loved. Never ever again.

And here I am, in the ruins of my life. How could it fall? Why is everything dust?

'What do you want?' he said.
He always asked me what I wanted.

I could not answer. I had no answer. I was silent and he left.

If I had words. What would I say? What would I have told him? What did I want?

I would have told him how I would come to him in his dream, an Egyptian servant girl, naked save for my girdle. I would dance for him, move my body for him, please him and make him desire me. I would dance and dance. Until my feet hurt. I would move my hips, circle my breasts, snake my arms to his delight, be a fairy and a slave for him, only for him.

I wonder if he remembers the time, the only time, he laid his hands on me in anger. The time he took hold of me and shook me because I couldn't tell him, because I couldn't speak. How I cried and we made love, how I loved him with passion, the only time I let myself go.

I wish I had told him what I wanted. How I dreamt about him coming to me, in the evening, bringing his cane, for to punish me, to show me who I was, to tell me I had to be. Telling me that I could no longer be silent. Whipping the fear out of me.

The pain of that whipping would be nothing compared to the distance in his eyes when I could not speak, when I disappeared from him. How he tried to seek me out but could not find me. How his gaze tried to penetrate the darkness but could not see my light.

I had hidden it. My flickering light was so weak, so nothing. It could easily be extinguished. I had to protect it. I had to cover it.

But how I wish I could have told him how he should have touched me and nurtured me and my light. How I wanted to tell him that he had to touch my thick hide, to penetrate the darkness to reach me.

I should have told him how he had to be strong to defeat me and to reach me. How he had to punish me and make me suffer for to bring me out of my silence.

I wish I had told him to kiss me. I should have told him what I wanted. That I wanted him to take me and make me his. That I wanted to be what he desires.

Now he is gone and I never told him.


Anonymous said...

You're right my dear, a sad story indeed.

Not all stories have to be jolly though.


Anonymous said...

This is poetic and touching. I think it is some of the best work in your blog. Don't worry about your readers, and never be afraid to walk the line between umbra and penumbra... that is where the tears come from, and where the treasures are found.