She Weeps
by Linda Melody Festa
She aches for his touch, his smile, his love…. as she sits there, propped up ,against the headboard of the double bed they rarely share anymore..
Her face, pale with grief, stares straight ahead into nothingness. Her long blonde hair hangs limply down. Her eyes are a ghost of ,the beautiful blue, green they used to be. The light, the sparkle of a light usually seen, is gone now, replaced instead with hollow pain, deeply rooted… draining her of her life. The struggle she bearly survives anymore, can be seen by any who care to look further than her outward appearance.
Her thoughts drift back… and she remembers a time, not too long ago (though an eternity for her tortured soul), when he used to show her how much he cared. When there was no need for pretending otherwise. Back before they had signed the contract, the one she had lovingly and willingly written up herself… from her heart… bearing her soul to this man she was about to give her everything up to.
Back before he held her heart in his strong yet giving and caring hands (hands now that push her away). Before she had so lovingly and unselfishly given her precious life up to him … the ultimate gift of love…..
…..and silently the tears come cascading down, unwiped, upon her reddened cheeks.
She recalls a time when she could FEEL… his love… when he WANTED… her near, when she felt special and worthy of his love and devotion. Now… though… it is a ‘different time… now… she feels an unbearable ache deep within her heart… and her soul cries out for that long forgotten touch. She feels so torn apart inside… broken… and the tears fall more rapidly.
She remembers when she first met him, and not in your usual (or expected) place where a Master might meet a slave. Rather… they met by happen chance in a campground, of all places.
She had given him a BDSM story she had written titled ‘The Shack’, and asked him to read it. She was pleased with the way her writing had differed from many years ago. She wasn’t actively looking for any type of entanglement (even if she ‘had’ known beforehand that he had the same desires as she)…she merely wanted him to read it… intending to shock him with it’s frankness and sexuality.
She loved to watch the facial expressions/reactions of those unfamiliar with this lifestyle (especially the men [the wannabes and the control freaks she had no desire for) upon reading such stories.
But… little did this naive woman realise… he ‘wanted’ the type of woman she had become, the woman she wrote of… the total surrendering fragile little slip of a woman. He wanted a woman he could control totally, one who would appreciate the love (as well as the exquisite pain) he had to offer… without the games of pretenders.
He had wanted a woman who would flower and grow with him, one he could mold into what he desired… and what she also desired. One who could love, serve and obey him… one who knew her place and could be content and happy there.
He saw this with her, saw it within her… from her words (verbal and written) and her actions.
Ahhhhhh, but… he grew too used to ,the way she was, never really appreciating her true submission. She was always wanting and ,needing to please him, caring only that he was happy. But it became not enough for him… he ,wanted even more of her soul… and less of the fiery sparkle that first drew him to her… less ,of her spirited attitude that makes her who she is.
He soon turned to taking her for granted..
She would constantly plead with him,tearfully begging for just a taste of his heart. But he would always refuse her and gently put her down… until…
Things began to take a turn for the worse. He began to degrade her, made her feel dead inside. He used her for his own gain, his own pleasure (knowing she was more than eager to please), not giving thought to her feelings (nor) needs and desires.
So she started to crawl even deeper into the protective shell she had built up around herself. But… she knew she could never even think of keeping him out of her heart. No matter how he treated her, she knew he could always penetrate her barriers. It helped numb her somewhat though… a place to hide her emotions.. her feelings… from all… but him.
She has told him many times, more than countable, how much she truly loves him…how she lives her life solely for him. She built her life around him and his needs… content only when he was happy.
Sadly though… he never once commented, never let her know her feelings for him meant anything at all. From bad to worse, it continued.
He started telling her that she was useless, worthless and brainless. She even began to believe him, doubting her own self worth.
She’s cried so many times in defeat and failure, cried when she thought he could not see her pain… too ashamed she was… knowing that ‘somehow’ it HAD to be her fault. She hid most of her pain well, but, being a sensitive, passionate woman and hardly able to hide much from him… he did indeed see her tears… he did indeed feel her pain… and he relished it immensely.
She has gotten to the point now, where she can barely cry anymore. She feels the pain and aches for the release of the tears… but seldom does she shed more than a few. She has shut the tears up with her ruined heart… to be discarded later… when he cannot see the hurt, the damage… the absolute anguish he has caused her.
And yet… she is still with him, still lovingly serving him (and still so very much in love with him), though she knows she will never have even the merest glimpse of his heart, let alone ‘FEEL’ the love she knows is hidden somewhere in there.
Her tears have dried up long ago, only an occasional droplet or two she lets escape.
But inside… the pain remains to haunt her forever… and in pain she weeps dry tears… hurting, and hiding within… she cries for her own soul…now forever lost…….
And yet… she continues loving him…. and she is forever bound to him by that love.
