Wednesday, January 13, 2010

"Sexy Boy"

I can be fearless when I am understood to be afraid, diminutive, trepidatious. A slave's freedom, Nietzsche might say. Real fearlessness, he would say, is when you are bold, unresponsive, affirmative: the creator. But Nietzsche wasn't much of a politician. Or I'm too good a rat (a rat backed into a corner). Either way: Pin me down, hold me tight so there is no hope of escape, and I release myself to myself (no, not to you, not to the situation--the "circumstances"): the confines open up my freedoms.
"Nobody loves me, it's true, not like you."
Sometimes, like this afternoon, I wish to be dominated, almost totally, to be held down, by the throat, unable to resist, and get fucked. Hard. Brutally. It sounds strange, but I suppose I want to know that I can still love someone during, and after, being subjugated, physically. A need of mine: to refigure power relations.
A need of mine: to complicate the easy either/or of love.
J. doesn't need to: he doesn't read this, so he wouldn't know I want it--and so this isn't an expectation, or a call in the (not so) dark of desire. But if he were to do it, perhaps in a fit of sexual rage, abandon, I would not cringe or shirk or try to escape.
It is funny because he has, more than a few times, called me out on being too cerebral. It's only when he fucks me, when I am allowed to become an object, material, that my body suddenly matters: my materiality is aroused, responds, grips him, breathes hard against his flesh, loses itself to him, cums through him, claws at him, can't release him...
If I wrote as much as I jerked off, have been fucked, or (been) hit on, then I'd be a best-selling author all of you would be paying $16.95 to read.

1 comment:

Luke said...

New Story of O Part II: "This time, he has brains"