He loves me.
He loves me not.
He loves me?
Many thoughts race through my mind as he exits the room. The first is noticing a slight chill. But that only makes sense as I'm naked and bound, kneeling, by the right side of the bed. He said he'd be right back. I believe him, of course I do. But I also wonder...will he? The thought stays with me as my mind wanders onto other things. The strength and tightness of my bonds, would they hold up to intense struggling, to a determined effort to escape? Not that I want to...but I test them anyway. I need to know I can. I want to know I can't. They're tight, strong, well and thoroughly knotted. It might take days to get out of them, if it's at all possible. My hands are in front of me and slightly elevated, tied together and strung to a bolt in the ceiling. Did he make this room for me? How many others have been in this position? Jealousy creeps over me and I decide that's not something I want to contemplate. So my mind takes me back to another time and another man. Different ropes have bound me, different hands have hurt me. A different voice telling me I am loved. That voice lying. Now I'm angry and hurt, thinking of the way back when, and I don't want to be this way when he comes back. But I'm crying. I want out, I want to leave, this will hurt too much, it always does. I won't love, I won't trust. How stupid and foolish am I for doing this? Now I'm struggling against the ropes that bind me, hands together, feet apart, on my knees. I want out. I want to go home where it's safe and familiar and where there is someone who loves me, someone I KNOW loves me, even if it is because she has no choice, even if it is only the accident of birth. He's gone and I'm twisting, turning, cutting the ropes into my wrists and ankles, desperate for liberation. Will he find me like this, tears running down my face, bleeding, trying to get free?
I want him back. I want him to walk in, take me in his arms and wipe away the tears-gently but firmly. Tell me he loves me. Tell me I'm his.
I stop struggling, just collapse against the ropes in defeat. There's nothing I can do about the blood, bright and red and painful against the white of the ropes. There's nothing I can do about the tears, salty and wet and soaking against the heat of my face.
Will he come back to find me here? Or has he gone already?
Having abandonment issues much?
Laters
He loves me not.
He loves me?
Many thoughts race through my mind as he exits the room. The first is noticing a slight chill. But that only makes sense as I'm naked and bound, kneeling, by the right side of the bed. He said he'd be right back. I believe him, of course I do. But I also wonder...will he? The thought stays with me as my mind wanders onto other things. The strength and tightness of my bonds, would they hold up to intense struggling, to a determined effort to escape? Not that I want to...but I test them anyway. I need to know I can. I want to know I can't. They're tight, strong, well and thoroughly knotted. It might take days to get out of them, if it's at all possible. My hands are in front of me and slightly elevated, tied together and strung to a bolt in the ceiling. Did he make this room for me? How many others have been in this position? Jealousy creeps over me and I decide that's not something I want to contemplate. So my mind takes me back to another time and another man. Different ropes have bound me, different hands have hurt me. A different voice telling me I am loved. That voice lying. Now I'm angry and hurt, thinking of the way back when, and I don't want to be this way when he comes back. But I'm crying. I want out, I want to leave, this will hurt too much, it always does. I won't love, I won't trust. How stupid and foolish am I for doing this? Now I'm struggling against the ropes that bind me, hands together, feet apart, on my knees. I want out. I want to go home where it's safe and familiar and where there is someone who loves me, someone I KNOW loves me, even if it is because she has no choice, even if it is only the accident of birth. He's gone and I'm twisting, turning, cutting the ropes into my wrists and ankles, desperate for liberation. Will he find me like this, tears running down my face, bleeding, trying to get free?
I want him back. I want him to walk in, take me in his arms and wipe away the tears-gently but firmly. Tell me he loves me. Tell me I'm his.
I stop struggling, just collapse against the ropes in defeat. There's nothing I can do about the blood, bright and red and painful against the white of the ropes. There's nothing I can do about the tears, salty and wet and soaking against the heat of my face.
Will he come back to find me here? Or has he gone already?
Having abandonment issues much?
Laters
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