Last night I tried something new. And the ropes hurt a bit. And I felt really uncomfortable most of the time. And my eyes watered. I felt used. And I loved it. At one moment my agony mixed with my bliss and for a few seconds I felt a new feeling, as yet unnamed, as far as I know. My lover said, “I told you so,” but I pretended he didn’t tell me so. I don’t want him to have that kind of power over me. No, he absolutely would not.
And so I got home this morning and immediately tied myself to my desk. Nothing really happened and I made some breakfast. I tested the heat of my cast-iron pan with the tip of my finger. The other hand was in my pants, testing the heat down there. Still, no reaction. I considered calling my lover back. I considered answering his texts. I considered responding to the e-mail he sent me while I was tied to my desk, but I figured—no, I knew—I could do this by myself. “I don’t need him,” I asserted.
I decided to take a break and read a book, taping my mouth shut just in case an unexpected moment came, in case I wanted to scream, in case I felt I had full power here. I guess I still did have full power here because nothing happened. I bound my hands. It became hard to turn pages. It cut into my wrists a bit. It was hard to concentrate. And I was hard too! And still nothing.
At noon I started a webcam session. “Berate me,” I begged. The cameras let my community see every angle, every hidden part, but the comments felt empty and emotionless. I unplugged my computer and whipped myself with the power cord. I ate a tablespoon of hot sauce. I hit myself with nerf guns, over and over again. I got naked and covered my eyes as I walked around my house, bumping into sharp objects and stiff surfaces. I placed pliers on my nipples and posed in the mirror. I wore all of my harnesses at once. I even did my taxes. Still, no pleasure mixed with pain. I did feel both. I did.
But even then they were a mere second away from one another. The emotions were far from the mélange that my lover produced for me. At 3PM, I finally called him. “I’ve been trying to contact you!” he immediately said. It felt odd to need him as much as he needed me. “I’ve been busy,” I said. “Can you come over?” He agreed.
He found me tied to my bed, face up, mask on, nude and ready. He knew what to do, and I know now that I need him after all.