For You are with Me

He scooped me up in his arms, my face resting, buried against his chest, my legs fallen open in exhaustion, a puddle on the floor beneath me. He held me close until my breathing matched his. I covered his chest in feathery kisses, pressed my cheek against him, and sighed.

Holding me close, The Sadist began to unbind the ropes that still held me. One by one, he freed my limbs until the very last rope was lifted from my skin. I used every bit of my newfound mobility to reach out to him, holding him as tightly as I could, trying to feel the warmth of his body and to return some of his energy, to use touch to communicate feelings while I was still incapable of words. I tried to remain present, relishing the last moments of his touch, while in my mind I wondered at how perfectly the scene had gone beyond the needs I was aware of, and had overflowed to fill all the places that had needed filling, breaking through false walls and facades to wash through and cleanse the secret hiding places in my psyche.

I lay on his chest, feeling the lingering wetness beneath us. My soul was restored, my spirit cleansed. I had gone through his suffering and come out the other side comforted by his canes, by his floggers, by his ropes, by his pain. I drifted off feeling purged of heavy cares, feeling full of goodness, feeling fully satisfied.