I am on my hands and knees on a dirty carpet in front of an open window, and I am naked from the waist down. Who undresses in this order? I always lose my top first. But this man has unique priorities. I'm not being fingered as foreplay. I'm being fingered as play. As introduction. As a preview of coming attractions. I say yes sir when told what to do. His fingers explore me and I hear him say, almost to himself, "My dick is so much bigger than this hole." I think I feel my spirit shudder.
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I am face down on a bed. I am completely nude now. There is a biting rope around my neck and I don't dare move. He stretches the length of his body on top of mine like planking, but facing the opposite direction. I have just showered and feel ready for anything. And then his mouth finds the sole of my foot. He properly makes out with it and I feel like I've discovered a new upper floor of the house I've lived in for ages.
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I am restrained on top of a hard wooden table. Places where my bone has no meat between it and the skin are already beginning to ache. I will have bruises after this and I can't wait to count them. The rope still bites into my neck, pinning my face to the table top, but it also bites into my ankles now, and any attempt to move my legs makes it tighten and sting. He assures me I'm fine, that my feet haven't begun to change color from lack of circulation. All I want is to be the very Best Girl I can be. I feel ready for anything, and yet I still get surprised by a question: "Do you know what you get when you graduate medical school?" I find I do not know. I attempt to raise my head and am only able to angle it slightly upward to see a large wooden paddle with some seal or crest or maybe Greek letters on it. Everything I can call "me" jumps inside my skin. I feel powerless and love it. I prepare myself for a pain that rhymes with bliss.
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The outside world is on fire. I have retreated completely into a small dark cave in the core of my torso. The wildfire is raging and I hear massive trees crashing to the forest floor. Wind screams past the opening of my cave but I am the calm, quiet center of the universe. Inside my cave there is only peace. No worries exist here, no depression nor anxiety; no politics threaten my or my friends' existence. I have no obligations here, no pressing matters, no responsibilities. There is only me in my cave, and the fire outside. Then there is a growl behind me, in a language I'm not sure I speak. I shut out the crackle of flames and hear it again: "Open your pussy for me."
I realize that I am not just in the cave, in the forest on fire. I am the cave, and the forest, and the fire. I am the old growth and the ground it smashes into. And I'm being pierced by this man, the one who set the fire, and I'm clenching. That is not Best Girl behavior. Before the end of the sentence I have reconnected to my body: I fling an invisible door open as wide as I can. The growl changes to a satisfied sound. I can taste the flames and they are delicious.
