Beat me. Hate me. Do something; show me that you notice me. That you know I’m still here. Hurt me. But most of all touch me. I need to feel your hands upon me, to know with that contact that I’m still functioning. These needs these wants, they’re inside me. They’re fighting to get out, but the fight’s futile. I crave blood; I want the coppery taste of that red fluid on my tongue. I can taste it…I can see it…but I can’t have it.
No outlet. There’s no outlet for me, or my tastes. There’s no method for me to express what I feel, what I need.
Does anyone listen? Does anyone understand? You assure me so often, that you do, that you get it…get me. But I can’t understand why, if you know these things, if you know me…why you won’t satisfy my urges. I need to feel pain…I want you to hurt me…to control me.
I want the taste of my blood on my lips…of your blood…I want to feel the roughness of your skin as you tie my hands behind me. But you won’t…you don’t have the same urges I do. You don’t feel like I do. You don’t understand even when you look into my eyes and see your face reflected back at you.
You don’t punish, you don’t feel those things for me…you don’t know what it’s like to dream about it at night…so vivid…so real…I can feel the restraints on my wrists. You made me get rid of those…the symbolism of what I am, that part of me that displeases you, that embarrasses you.
I’ve tried to make you angry enough to hit me…I’ve tried to be bad enough to be punished. But you only walk away, angry and hurt…and I sit here, frustrated and crying. It can’t go on like this…night after night…day after day. But I can’t leave you; my submissive heart just can’t stand the thought of being alone.
Even in this, your refusal to give in, you control me. You might not realize it…you might not know it, but you do. I won’t leave you…can’t leave you…isn’t that controlling? Your passive dominance?
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