Pain has become a second language i’m struggling to comprehend anymore. it’s like i can almost taste

Pain has become a second language i’m struggling to comprehend anymore. it’s like i can almost taste it and i can start to feel it but it never stays. i crave the bite on my skin. The cold carbon metal gliding convincingly across my flesh. The sound of His hands trying to tear inside of me. The ache in my body that has recently been returned to me; not by choice. Above all, i miss the control. i’m such a mess trying to find it in anything and everything and it’s overwhelming. i feel my walls closing in around me and the lack of control sends me into fits of spirals. i miss the intensity; the mix of animosity and Dominance. The constant battle of wanting to disrespect and submit to His feet at the same time. i miss the fear that would swell through my body when i was alone in a room with Him for a second. His eyes. FUCK! Those eyes. The ones that penetrated my body in a room full of people, making my head lower in a beautiful act of submission i never had to think twice about. The kind that nestled it’s way between my legs and almost dripped for Him on command. i. just. miss it.i used to crave the thought of Daddy nurturing His little girl, and i used to feed off the feeling it came with. the balance is what made it so special. i was His young lady first, above all else; that is why i got into This in the first place. It was the little bit of tenderness and caring that she contributed, that made it work. It used to be what i craved because pain was such a close companion. i remember the profound feeling of jealousy that rose to my skin, green with envy, and how it used to feel when i watched Him treat her the way He did. What He gave to her, and what i got in return. i couldn’t realize it at the time, but i loved it, and i miss the feeling of missing His little girl.i used to often obsess about the idea of being locked in a cage for days, only released to service His temporary needs before being shut back in for hours on end. It used to stir things deep inside me. Now, i’ve been placed in a box that i wish i was never lured into. The roles have switched. i can still see the outline of His little girl that used to reside in this very spot, and now i’m the one suffocating in here, and it’s hard to breathe. This isn’t the kind of patience i thought i was preparing for. All ties have been released. i’m no longer bound, but i STILL can’t move. i’m paralyzed with the Dominance that i’ve been accustomed to for the last year. my submission yearns for direction. This isn’t me cowering away. This is me indulging in the darkness that clings to this box i now call home, watching slideshows on the wall from the images instilled in my head.my mind has developed a habit of being consumed with the thought of bothering Him throughout His day. It tries convincing me that the reason i can’t get Him out of my head is because He’s on the other end, waiting for me to text Him. It’s ridiculous to think that This actually takes up a minute of His time anymore. More ridiculous to think of how much time it used to occupy, and now, it doesn’t at all. And even more ridiculous to think of how much time i devote to trying to fix it.It can be at the most inopportune times; when my mind is already flooded with the day’s obligations. i’ll look around as if i feel His eyes stalking me from somewhere near. Then it starts to conflict with my other senses. i swear i can smell Him, and then taste of Him floods to my mouth and leaves it watering, wanting more. There are also other times, i think i hear Him come in, making His way up the stairs to my apartment to have His way with me. my heart races and my breathing becomes heavy. i feel my soul race to submit faster than my body has the chance. But. It’s never Him. Just my mind playing nefarious tricks on me. Tricks that leave me left alone and cold, picking myself up from my kneeling position.This isn’t me giving up, this is me being patient. i may be a moth to a flame when it comes to Him, but that flame will eventually burn out and once it does, there will be nothing left to keep my attention. And He will be the Dominant sitting in a chair, holding a collar i no longer wish to wear; at least for Him.Copyright 2013 © patientyounglady -- source link
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