Scratching Through The Surface by Anonymous

Scratching through the Surface

    The night I I planned to tell you I was moving out stretched out in slow motion and intensified my apprehension.  I needed to get away, not only to shorten my commute, but to have my own space.  I dreaded telling you because I knew you depended on my portion of the bills to maintain your lifestyle.  We had made no agreements about the nature of our relationship as roommates or as anything beyond friendship.  When you pushed me to my knees as I explained my intentions, I realized something had changed.
     For years I had admired you and when we kissed under the awning during the storm, the lightning crashed and sent desire through my body in shocking splinters.  I had always wanted to relive that kiss, but never had the courage to mention it.  As I moved to the ground, I felt the same anticipation filled me.  I knelt, and stared at your boots, ashamed that I had considered leaving.  You lifted my head with one finger and penetrated my eyes with your will.
     “You are not going anywhere,” your harsh tone replaced your usual quiet voice and your eyes filled with rage.  “I have been thinking about this and now it seems I must act.  Take off your shirt.”
     With trepidation, I unbuttoned my shirt while my eyes remained locked on yours.  I was confused, I had not considered this an outcome of my explanation for wanting to leave.  I imagined how upset you would be, but never anything like this.  The tip of your fingernail pressed softly into my chest.
     “You will apologize now.  And make no sound whatsoever in between.  You are going to stay here.”
     You pressed firmly into my chest and scraped downward towards my abdomen.  I apologized as the sharp pain penetrated my being, and made the mistake of gasping.  You grabbed my chin, looked at me, and told me to be quiet; all she wanted to hear was my apology.  You scraped again, and again.  Each time, you became fiercer in your conviction and I became more malleable in my will.
     I apologized over 50 times, each time careful to utter only the sounds that signified my apology.  I could feel blood trickling down my chest and your glare never wavered.  I knew my place.  You knew my place.  You lifted my chin once more, and told me to open my mouth.  You rolled your tongue around in your mouth and as I sat with my head tilted towards you, you let forth a dollop of saliva directly into my mouth.
     “You are not going anywhere, my pet.”