too far, not so fast

you asked me if, in my moments of objectification and muffled screaming, i'd have preferred to be used sexually instead.

within seconds, images of everything that happened flashed: four hands pinching and placing and moving and slapping and hurting. unable to breathe through the gag because my nose was stuffed from sobbing.

"i hate electricity," i responded. "i've always told you that."

"that's not an answer," you said, as you kept your eyes on the road, and my eyes wandered around your face. i kept looking for the real question there, but couldn't find it. i occasionally forget that you are a man of action over words, and that it doesn't occur to you to hide your meanings.

"i'm not sure if i can answer that," i said finally. i looked out at the road in front of us as we were driving away. "i don't think it even occurred to me that that was an option."

"it wasn't. an option for you, anyway. you don't have options."

"that's not what i meant." i tried again. "i mean that in the midst of it, it did not occur to me that something could be different. that i could want something other than what was happening, even if i hated what was happening. electricity play is something i've never done well with, and there's really nothing about it that's erotic to me." i paused, carefully trying to get my meaning across.

"i wasn't thinking that i'd rather be fucking. i was thinking, frankly, about survival and trying to obey what was happening in the present, and wherever it went, i would go. for you."

a few seconds passed as i watched the graying sky beyond you and the slow smile that grew across your lips.