My feet are cold, my skin is warm. The water sluices down my skin, which was once cold, and now becomes the temperature of the cascade from above. But my feet are missed. I’ve adjusted the pressure so that the small amount of hot water that the tank has produced today will last as long as I need it to. So far so good. It is still hot. It silences the sounds from outside. All I hear is the music as the drops hit the puddle around me. THe shower is not deep, but my leg keeps it from draining, so I have a few inches of warmth that surrounds my ass.
The sounds, the stress, the chaos is silenced. I’d hoped to escape from Him too, but He stands above me with that wicked grin of His. He speaks to me, weaving His dark words into the
fabric of my soul. It’s not hard, He’s been doing it for years. But His words seem stronger these days. They puncture holes in the fabric of my sanity. Always.
I’ve escaped Him before. Several times. Many times.
I’ve sought other Masters before. But I always return to Him. I can’t help but do so. He owns me. He always has and always will.
He lets me escape, when He’s in the mood. He allows me to see the light, to feel the warmth on my skin. But inevitably, I return.