As he grabbed my throat to counter the resistance which I could not help but to give, and brought the water to my face, I had a long moment of new-found panic. The struggle did no good, and my desperate attempts at escape ended with me in the corner of the shower on my toes, gasping for air through the waves of water...Until he was done. Until he allowed me to breathe and released me...
When I saw the cane, I grabbed my pillow. As if clutching it desperately and scrambling across the bed into the corner would somehow save me from what was to come.
I tried to beg out, but he would have none of it.
By eight, I was sure that he was going to ten, (because he seems to like round numbers) and I knew that I couldn't possibly handle it.
When the words, "Eleven. Thank you Master, may I please have another?" slid past my lips, I knew he was going to twenty. Twenty was going to be twelve more than I could handle.
He stopped at thirteen. Somewhere in the haze, my brain registered a slightly disconnected surprise at the odd number. I was too grateful for the fact that it was over to offer any comments.
At some point, he asked me why I was so far away. My response was that I just couldn't come back. It had been too long.
"Silly girl, you haven't left. You can't. That's not the way this works." He whispered, as he shoved my face into the bed and entered me from behind.
At one point he asked me what was up with me lately. It's this underhanded thing he does when he knows that I can barely speak and my brain is mush. "I need more upkeep", was my honest response. In my endorphin fueled haze, I found myself wondering about the validity of "upkeep", was it really a word...?
It didn't matter. Because after a certain point, words become meaningless, and I realize that thought is an abstract and distant experience without form.
For just a little while, he made the world stop. And I went to sleep, not arguing with the daily demons in my mind, but hearing his voice growling quietly in my head, "Mine. Always Mine."