Airport
The music remains. His music, which he sent me once. How long ago that was. I was in Thailand, and he sent links, then more, already in Moscow. Now it accompanies me everywhere — in the player, on the phone, in the car. As if a piece of Him does not leave me, even when He is not with me. I am not ready to part with it. I know what I will do later. I will delete all his correspondence, so carefully copied and saved on the computer, then with one motion erase the messages that he called, and then delete the music. Not forever. I like it too much, it has grown into me too deeply to disappear. It will appear again when I am independent. From Him, from memories of Him.
I sat and waited. For what? I was supposed to fly out in two days, but I couldn't stay in the hotel for those two days, prolonging the agony and the feeling of being unnecessary. I need to fly today, now, or better yet — yesterday, but there are no tickets yet, and I am waiting. For my turn, when thousands of kilometers will separate us. After this step, there will be no going back. There will be the past and… I don't know what — the present, the future… where I am stuck…
Music, me, and tears, sometimes dried, sometimes welling up again, and then everything around blurs, and you look at everything as if through a magnifying glass.
I didn't notice when He arrived. I heard someone sit down next to me and rather felt a heavy gaze. I didn't turn around. Why? No one should come to me. Unbidden tears blurred my eyes again, I wiped them away, sighed, and felt someone take the headphones out of my ears. I turned sharply and looked with a tired, hunted gaze. I shouldn't have done that. Only He is capable of this. Taking out the headphones… but not to find me and come.
Heavy minutes dragged on. He listened to the music. He recognized it, there is no doubt about that.
— Why? — He was the first to break the silence.
I turned around:
— I can't be the one hundred and twenty-fifth. Everything has gone too far. It became too painful for me. Too…
— Couldn't you have told me about this?
— I wrote.
— Told me… looking into my eyes.
— I couldn't. It was beyond my strength. I can't give you anything more. Everything I could, I already did. Nothing more or nothing left. The toy broke.
— I don't communicate with toys.
— It doesn't matter, the essence doesn't change from that.
— What a silly girl you are… silly Prostakova. You have no idea what would have happened if… I wouldn't have forgiven myself if something happened to you.
I looked and looked and couldn't utter a word. What to say. Everything had been said. What to do next? He was silent, I had made my choice. It was up to him to decide where to end it and how.
— I'm sorry, please, I thought…
He held me tightly to him, ran his hand over my neck and squeezed a little. No, it didn't hurt. I so wanted him to put a collar on me, right now. My favorite one, with spikes. He ran his hand over my cheek, I touched my lips to his hand. He ran his hand over my neck again, squeezing slightly where a vein pulsed under the skin.
— I'm sorry, please, — tears kept rolling and rolling, soaking His shirt. His forgiveness was very important to me. And to stay close to Him like this, the most reliable one, not running away anywhere anymore.
— I forgive you. But first I will punish you.
I froze, letting the feelings wash over me. I don't know what was more — fear, anticipation, anxiety, excitement, or joy. Maybe even happiness, because he forgave me. I even wanted to smile.
— Hard? — I didn't like punishment, it was harsh, painful, and unpleasant. And this punishment. Without emotions, only pain and the understanding that it wasn't over yet. For a long time. And it doesn't depend on me. Only on Him, when he deems it necessary to finish, to free me. And there is no way to stop it.
— Hard… and harsh.
I had no doubt. An image instantly flashed before my eyes… I sighed, pulling the tension in my stomach. I nodded, smiled, rubbed my cheek against His shoulder. Despite… I was happy:
— Thank you… for forgiving me.
— Let's go, — he picked up my suitcase. And we walked, accompanied by the curious and bewildered glances of those departing.
In the taxi, I climbed onto the seat with my feet and pressed against him. I felt good. It was as if I had received permission to touch him for the first time. I didn't detach myself for the entire ride.
In the room, punishment awaited me. He gave me several slaps. He said he would punish me for cowardice, foolishness, for almost destroying everything. (Specially for еtаlеs.ru — .орg) I agreed with everything. Immediately, he ordered me to undress and get on my knees and elbows on the bed. I stretched out as far as I could, arched my back, and began to wait. He put handcuffs on my hands. He took a cane. It hurts, without warm-up — terribly painful, burning, and very unpleasant. But it's not for me to decide.
He whipped me harder than before. He swung stronger, a little slower, so I could feel the pain. And enjoy it?… Hardly. Not this time. It was painful to endure. He gave me a chance to rest and continued again. I didn't moan, I cried quietly, but I didn't ask for forgiveness. Why? He will forgive me when he deems it necessary, when the punishment is over.
A pause. He took out a collar and put it on me. He always punishes me without a collar. This is redemption, as if during the punishment I do not belong to him, and only after punishing, he considers me worthy to return to him again. I am grateful for that.
And again the blows, painful. It's hard for me to cry. I feel like I have no strength left to endure. I can't take it anymore. I didn't immediately realize that he had stopped, removed the handcuffs, helped me up, carefully laid me on the bed, and covered me with a blanket. I thanked him, touched my lips to His hand, and asked him to sit with me for a while. He sat down, placed his heavy, warm, so familiar hand on my head, and I fell asleep.
When I woke up, he wasn't next to me. My body ached. It was painful. A wave of loneliness washed over me. I raised myself on my hands, looked around, and saw Him. He was sitting in an armchair, looking thoughtfully at me. I smiled, winced from the pain as I got up. And for the first time in recent days, I saw a smile on his lips.