I stood in awe watching you take the cane against your ass. When I split your flesh I thought for sure you had enough. But you screamed into the pillow and begged for more. I knew at that moment no matter how much I ripped into you there would always be a piece you wouldn’t let go of. Some break easy. Some call “Red” before a proper sadist can even get started. But the masochists who have spent most of their life suffering are so at home in the pain I inflict.
Even though you were sobbing I could see my sadism wasn’t that impressive in comparison to the sadist known as life. I screamed in your ear, “Tell me what you’re ashamed of.”
You answered so quickly like you had been waiting to blurt this truth out. You shrieked the words, “I’m a bad mother.”
I reared back with the cane like a designated hitter getting ready to clobber a ball over the wall. When I crashed into your ass your whole body flung forward. “I imagine every mother feels that way. Tell me why you think you’re so bad.”
You ran off this list I won’t repeat here. It’s a list I imagine you’ve been holding onto for a very long time. It’s a list I imagine isn’t all that different from most mothers. With every sin you confessed I beat your ass, turning it redder. You screamed and cried as we dug deeper. The pain I inflicted flowed from your backside to your mouth as you purged yourself of these burdens. You released them out into the ether and the room became heavy with them.
You know I wasn’t going to let you stop there. I wanted to hear all of it. Having the power to hurt you isn’t enough. What I crave is having the power to know you like no one else. Me and you alone in that room, alone in a house, alone on a street, in an empty town, on a barren world: you screamed to me your truths.
They echoed and reverberated like the crack of a cane and rippling flesh.
You told me about addiction and heartbreak. Your cries sang songs of lies and insecurity. Hearing them once wasn’t enough. I made you tell me again and again, draining them of power. I deflated them like sad old balloons that no one wants. Did you feel yourself growing less and less heavy? Were you so light you could float away? Then I did my job.
You gave me my reward. You showed me how grateful you were for what I have the power to do. Falling to your knees you hugged my legs against your face like a destitute beggar clinging to her last hope. I basked in the rubble of what I destroyed. Pieces of you were scattered around my feet. I know you better than anyone. When there’s nothing left to hide there’s nothing left to hold back.
I got down with you on the floor. I wrapped my arms around you and you sobbed. These were different tears than before. These were tears a person cries after being lost for days- tears someone cries having been stuck on a desert island for years the moment they were found. I’ve found you. Not the you that is wrapped up in a pretty bow for the world. I found the ugly you. I found the scared you. I found the needy and lonely you. And these are the yous I want to love and kiss and fuck and hold so close. Never deny me what I want. Give me these pieces of you as easily as you give the world a smile- a smile that’s your mask concealing the things you keep hidden. With me, you wear them like badges of honor. And when the time comes I’ll rip them off your chest and fling them over my shoulder so they can land in the pile I keep of all your pieces. That way I can look at you as I want to, stripped bare and completely real.
The Cerebral Sir 