I'd have despised you if you'd kissed me,
if you'd whispered tender phrases on my ears,
if you'd wiped my tears.

I would have hated you if you had faltered when
you saw the ropes were too tight round my wrists.

I’d had been disappointed
if you’d shown signs of weakness,
if you’d lost your erection when you heard me cry.

I trusted you enough to know you’d scare me
and answer to my plea with violent rage.

You slapped my face to shut me up,
once, twice, three times, as harshly as I deserved.
You hit me, bit me, spat on me,
you forced your entry once.
You made me bleed, called me vile names,
you forced your entry twice.

You made me feel small and helpless,
you made me proud of you
and proud of me for you chose me.

I chose you because you’re a forceful man,
bigger than me, responsible and strong,
a man who figures out my darkest wishes,
who values my fragility,
complies with my surrender,
approves of my submissiveness,
and thrives on my defeat.

It was me who gave you consent for breaching my consent.
I’d given you permission for abusing my permission.
I’d willfully encouraged you to disregard my will.

I’m flattered that you showed respect for me, my lord,
and disrespected me.

And now, when I sit in this shady corner,
naked and frail,
shaky and bruised,
helpless and humiliated,
I feel the whole world’s in my hands
for you’re a part of it,
the way I am a part of you,
an object in your hands.
Euphoric, proud, exhilarated,
empowered by the strength I draw from you,
I’m grateful that you have agreed, my lord, to rape me at my request.

Ernesto Sarezale, 2000-2004
www.sarezale.com
sarezale(at)yahoo.com