THE LONELY SLAVE

It can’t lie. The choice to be his was a compelling but arduous one. He was a married man with a family and a business life that had him traveling most of the month. His homes in London, NYC, and out west didn’t leave us much time. He was clear on the terms and they weren’t easy. However, it just couldn’t resist. There was something between us that was undeniable. It wasn’t lust but adoration, maybe? A feeling that portrays a different way of emoting, behavior, and consequences. You aren’t quite operating in lust and limbic and you know that what seems rational is irrational to some. It was determined. We wouldn’t see each other often, he made sure of that. It lived through its overachieving deeds, always trying to get his attention. This is what an emotionally immature slave does. Knock, knock, Master, but he was rarely there. It had lived through the words and stories of others. These random words from others that were owned and cherished conveyed emotions that were so relatable, it was motivational to not give up on becoming wholly owned, wholly his.