The real bonds that hold someone aren’t rope or chains or leather. You can’t buy them in a sex shop or a hardware store. You can’t call them pervertibles or pass them off as arts and crafts supplies. They can’t be removed with a scissor or a key.
There’s a point where you just decide to give yourself over and that’s it. You’re bound, hand and foot. Locked away. Restrained. Vulnerable.
Sometimes, it’s incredibly freeing. Others, it’s horribly painful. There’s moments where it tears at you so completely because you realize the true depth of it. There’s moments where that same realization fills you with such utter joy that it renders you wordless. Surrender is a strange feeling because you haven’t completely lost yourself, just the battle.
And you’re bound long before you realize you are. There are new feelings and there are ways you can no longer move. And there’s a persistent idea, a simple phrase that at the same time feels so desperately painful and so indescribably wonderful.
I’m your girl.
lovely.
catphrodite by Marcus Ranum