Moment of Truth (by Rylan Hunter)
He wants to see submission in my eyes.
The fabric of the blindfold is wrapped firmly over my eyes, shutting out all light and holding the darkness captive as I gaze at nothing. I kneel in the center of the room with my knees apart in order to display all of me. The earlier pain in my calves is gone; I lost feeling in them long ago from the stiff position. There is silence.
The absence of light is overwhelming and my other senses stand at alert as they attempt to make up for the one that has been crippled. My skin tingles in anticipation of … what? I have no idea as I wait. Wait for one sound, one movement that tells me I haven’t been abandoned, that my trust wasn’t misplaced. My worst fear is of being alone and the longer I kneel on the stone floor that leaves indentations in my knees, the more the fear threatens to consume me. The world no longer exists. There is only me.
My muscles are tensed and nearly quiver as the blood rushes through my veins and my heart pounds in my chest. Where is the pleasure in this? My fingers twist together where I hold them clasped behind my back and when the edges of panic begin to bleed into my emotions, I dig my bitten nails into the palm of my hand and the pain brings me back. I can feel the emptiness of the room weighing down on me like a thick blanket on a stifling summer night. It’s too much.
A vague rustling sound stills my movements and I find my breath has ceased its exit from my lungs. I need. I need more. When the darkness promises to overtake my mind as well as my vision, I release a shaky breath and draw in new oxygen. There! Another sound and I know I am not alone but who watches me? Is it the one who whispers of his wants or another? How would I know the difference? My hands curl into fists to stop them from shaking and I tilt my head just a bit as if that will bring the sounds closer to me.
A vague current of air brushes over my skin and I know that he moves closer. I don’t hear him but there are faint vibrations from the floor that move through my flesh and into my bones. I realize then that I can feel him all the way into my bones and I draw him closer to me as I open up to that. Rigor mortis repels the sensations so I let the tension seep away from my muscles and the tilted head no longer needs to listen for sounds that aren’t coming. My neck relaxes and I bow my head as I should have been doing all along. I can feel him in my bones and he’s a part of me.
Can I give him what he wants? Would it destroy me to withhold the connection we both desire? There is no denying what genetics has created within me and the real fear comes in having faith in the one that sees it in my eyes and treats it with respect. Is it really a gift that I give? How can it be a gift when the pulling inside of me forces my hand? In those moments it seems more a curse. The weight of his hand settles on the top of my head and moves down, trailing fingers through my hair before reaching behind me where the second hand joins the first and my blindfold is removed. I do not open my eyes. I haven’t received permission yet to do that and I know that each move I now make is being evaluated carefully just as I am evaluating his. He does not have my trust yet, he has not earned it. My submission owns me but my trust is mine to give or keep.
A whispered command as a hand lifts my chin has me blinking up in the dim light. My eyes search his face and find nothing that tells me what I want to know but this was never about what I want. It is about what I need. And what he wants. He wants to see submission in my eyes. As I watch, his lips curve into the barest of smiles and his thumb strokes down along my jaw and I know … I know he has been given what he wants. How could he not? Only the blind would be unable to see what was always there as I meet his own eyes which reflect approval and I drop my gaze back to the floor. He has what he wants and the tiny thrill that races through me with the look I was given in return lets me know he controls what I need. I need for him –
To see me in my eyes.
(Photography by Dan Skinner)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]Moment of Truth (by Rylan Hunter),