Friday, June 24, 2011

Wrestling a bitch into submission

It was a wonderful warm afternoon.  I had that irrepressible sense of giddiness that always accompanies the arrival home from my last day off work before a nice long vacation.  When Master told me to get my walking shoes on I welcomed the idea of stretching out my legs. 

But he did not take us on any of our known and sweetly familiar routes.  He was in the mood for a bit of adventure.  So I found myself wandering in unfamiliar environs.  The trail he chose narrowed from a wide sidewalk to a narrow dirt path winding through blackberry thickets.  Sadly, I am a creature of habit… and when I do something new I plan it out, research it exhaustively.  To passively follow along, not knowing where the trail may lead, to explore??? It triggers all my insecurities and control issues.  I was questioning, suggesting, resisting… but to my credit, I followed along, legs and body obeying even if the mind and mouth weren’t.

Eventually the trail widened and reentered into more cultivated environs.  We found a place where strange metal towers, the kind that high voltage wires hang from were built, just standing, without the wires… perhaps for trainees to practice upon.  They stood there in a clearing, tall, angular, hard but in some ways airy, weightless and full of possibilities.  To be tied, suspended dozens of feet above the ground… spot lights and spectators… or left alone in the darkness… Of course Master always practical and pragmatic, said there is in all likelihood security cameras and grouchy security guards… oh, well… poof goes the fantasy.

We eventually found our way back to the car and drove home.  On the way I did a mental inventory of the contents of the refrigerator, seeking out inspiration in the odds and ends in the vegetable drawer.  Celery, there is always celery, and bell peppers and mushrooms… half a bunch of parsley that should be used soon or it will just end up in the compost.  Oh… and a nice bit of broccoli.  And a couple cups of left over rice.  Yes… that is it… I will saut√© the veggies and mix in the rice… I have done that before.  But I have never added broccoli… that sounded like a new touch that I wanted to try but the recipe would require it to be diced… not broken into florets.  I wondered if Master would object.  He grouches at the oddest times.  The last time I tried to “chop up” broccoli, he ranted for nearly twenty minutes about me somehow abusing vegetables.

I think I rolled my eyes at the memory and shot him a “look”.  And he was instantly all over me.  “WHAT???” 

“nothing”… small voice, averted eyes.  I mean how can you explain that it was a moment of irritation caused by the anticipation of some possible future unreasonable rigidity on his part???

“…just thinking about dinner.” 

But the giddiness, the leftovers of the disorientation from being taken places I was not comfortable in and the strange imagined dissatisfaction I was anticipating all mixed together and I was tense, reactive… already busy with assembling the ingredients and tools… so when he reached for me, I shrank back and dodged away.

That resistance… that bit of fight… it always is like gasoline on a fire.  He leapt.  He grabbed.  And my nebulous mood ignited into full blown rebellion.  I struggled to escape.  I raged.  “Don’t bother me!  I am cooking!  You want to eat????”

And perfectly predictably… he went on full attack and the harder he tried to wrestle me into submission… the more I fought and just as I was about to gain some advantage, he sank his teeth into my ear… not the lobe but the top, gristley part… yark… but I was instantly still, perfectly still, it hurt and he hissed through his clenched teeth something about me being difficult and somehow those words and the warm heavy breath behind them tickled.  Tickled worse than anything ever before in my life… and… I… could… not… move.  I trembled.  I laughed, nervous, panicked pent up giggles that only made it hurt and tickle worse and worse and worse.  I screamed and then I begged. 

“I am sorry.”

“I will be good.”

“I will never do it again.”

“Pulllleasssse stop, I will do anything…!!!!!”

“Please, please, pleeeeeaaaaaasssssse…. Maaaasssster!!!!”

When he finally relented and let me go I sank to the floor.

He stared down at me and grinned a slow satisfied grin.  He commented to me, to himself, to the universe in general, “That works good.  I will have to remember that.”

And from somewhere in the squirrely depths of my brain a random memory about the way to wrestle a pig into submission is to leap upon them and bite them in the ear bubbled to the surface.  I don't know how good it would work for a pig, but it seemed to work for me.

The rice turned out delicious… the broccoli (chopped !) was a perfect addition. 

1 comment:

  1. What a great story! Thank you for sharing it...