I’ve noticed that I don’t feel loved if he doesn’t dominate me. We can have sex, I can have orgasms and we can cuddle and kiss all we like, but it’s not enough. I need him to show me that he really means it. I can’t believe anything other than the real thing.
It’s not even enough if he halfheartedly squeezes my buttocks or breasts, my neck, if he isn’t into it. I can sense he’s not really taking responsibility, he’s just humouring me.
I told him this but he didn’t believe me. He had made up his mind that he can’t pleasure me anymore, and since I’ve gotten all well and serene in the therapy, I don’t need that stuff anymore. The stuff he wants to do to me, more than anything. The stuff I need done to me or else I lose my mind. But, yeah, noooo. It’s okay. I don’t mind. Let’s just. Cuddle. It’s never sounded like a swear word before.
I begged. Try me, try me, slap me, a bit, on the cheek, mold my butt, please, do something to me. I put his hand on my throat and squeezed his fingers around it. Do it, do it. And he wouldn’t.
There were tears, I’ll tell you that. Frustration. Anger. But there was also hope. He was speaking to me now, telling how he’d been afraid that I’d left him alone. It must be frightening to think that the other one is cured of something that is so deeply you. So deeply me. I can’t imagine the fear and self-hatred that always follows, when you think you’re all alone.
And then he strangled me gently, fingered my mouth so I couldn’t breath, hurt my neck, made the veins in my neck sing. I was pulsing, involuntary, happily, massively. There was an uproar of emotion and passion that overcame me.
And then I started to cry. I didn’t think it, but I felt it, and now I have to write it altough it sound so shallow in words. You really love me. That’s what I felt. The trust that had been missing. Something essential. It was in his hand’s uncompromising grasp on my neck. It was in my willful, oblivious, submission that sent me to a place where I grew up. I am being loved. I am being cared for. I could feel how it was the same, the all encompassing love which was caring and nurturing and demanding. I was safe again.