Masochism, Part III

I cannot explain how or why this itch creeps up inside me, but it starts slowly and builds throughout the day. I start to feel jittery and anxious, like I'm crawling out of my own skin. I start unconsciously pulling at my hair and fidgeting, drumming my fingers restlessly and pacing in my office. I have an itch that I just can't scratch.

To call it a yearning makes it sound too peaceful, almost bucolic. Instead, it is a rattling vibration. It is relentless and high-pitched and nervous. It will not stop. I cannot make it stop.

Only He can fix this. Only he can hurt me so thoroughly that my mind can fall quiet again. Only he knows how to take me outside of myself so completely that this energy burns itself out.

But until he can take care of me, I am inconsolable. I am desperate, clawing, relentless. All I want is to feel him over me, all around me, hurting me. I hate him for making me wait, for having priorities that aren't satisfying this need. I resent anything that comes in between us, no matter how irrational. I am violent, raging and I just want to rest my head in his lap when it is all over.

I want to hurt him. I want to incite that darkness in his eyes. I want to be bad so he will punish me, please, please, just spank me, please. I want release and control and submission and all of that is absent in my office on a Monday afternoon. All of that is so far away and I cannot do anything to draw it closer. I cannot survive this one more minute. I cannot be absent from him for a one more second without exploding into a fury of white hot oblivion.