Freedom

Arriving home, I run straight upstairs, no words spoken. I walk into his playroom, or rather, my playroom now since Jackson changed it for me. I strip and put on the blindfold.

Moving, I stand in the corner and wait. I need to feel free. I need a release from my thoughts, and the playroom is such a good place to forget everything, even just for a bit.

I can hear his footsteps getting closer, and his arms wrap around me.

“What do you need?” His question is easy to answer. I know exactly what I need, not what I want, and it is not often I know what I need. He knows what I need, yet, every time, he asks me.

“To feel free. I need to feel free, with no control. I need my escape, and you're it. So, just make me feel free!” I stand waiting, wondering if he is going to give me what I need. His hands grip mine, and he pulls me away from where I am standing.

My body screams for his touch, for freedom. My mind is begging, ‘Please don’t stop, don’t stop, keep me here for hours’. The restra