Posted on

The Euphonious Staccato Rhythm

Music should be embraced, not worn. This is what I had learnt, years back from a woman who challenged every conventional notion of beauty and was the greatest Vivaldi admirer I knew. I stuck to it, belligerently, always letting the music come at me from all directions. Never did I succumb to convenience and purchase those beautiful things called headphones that everyone seems to have nowadays.
So, when he sat me down in the middle of the room and said I’d have to open myself to the possibility of headphones, I cringed, I don’t even like the word, let alone the concept.
I did not really have much choice, though, my wrists and ankles were bound to the chair and even if they were not I would comply. There was a blindfold over my eyes, but I could hear him telling me what he was about to do. I could feel his elbow brush against my shoulder and his fingers taking me to a new technological era via the headphones, of course. He untied my hair and I heard the music come on in my ears, literally, in them.
I felt his warmth move further and further away from me, but there was something more important than that; The Music. I cannot be sure if his gaze was upon me, but since he said he wanted to watch me give myself to the music as I would if I were alone, I assumed it was. It took me a few minutes, I closed my eyes despite being unable to see and threw my head back and just as I heard Thom Yorke incessantly hope that what was happening was not real, I realized what I was listening to was not just my music but my hidden playlist, the one that has only grown in magnitude and melancholy over the years.
I had never managed to listen to those songs sitting still, let alone bound, they fill me up with so much that I cannot contain myself, they urge me to forget not who I am but what I am and destroy so that I can express myself fully. All I had then was the ability to move my head and maybe contort slightly where I was sitting.
‘All That Could Have Been’, is when I truly forgot everything except the music, I could feel my hair on my face but I had no idea how they got there, I could feel myself part my lips and mouth the words as if I knew exactly what they truly meant.
When ‘Fade To Black’ began to play, that is exactly what I was doing, fading, forgetting that I have a real physical form that I owed anything to, but that wasn’t his plan.
Deathly lost this cannot be real but the sting of his belt that I felt on my thighs, that was real.
And completely unprecedented, I had not even felt him approach me, I had forgotten him completely.
No one but me could have saved myself, but indeed it was too late.
I suppose it was fitting that the next song that came on was ‘Cellar Door’. He’d wait for the music to attack me, and then for me to give myself back to it and then he’d bring me back with a ferocity that too seemed unearthly.
I believe it was when I heard Amy Lee ask, ‘Has no one told you she’s not breathing?’ that I noticed just how breathless I was, not for any reason other than ache and longing but he was already touching me, all over my body. In that sense, there was nothing to ache for.
When I felt his breath on my neck, I felt the rage asking to take control in my body.
I knew his face was right in front of mine, I could smell his breath.. ‘I am just a worthless liar, I am just an imbecile, I will only complicate you, trust in me and fall as well’; if there were any words in the world that could have made me voluntarily take his mouth and kiss him, without fear or permission or disgust, they had to be Tool.
Keenan serenaded us while I searched for Nirvana in his mouth, for the first time ever and probably the last.

ImageDSM m
Advertisements

About ancilla9876

I'm a young, female, Indian submissive and masochist. I am many other things, of course. But this blog mostly deals with the contents of my lede sentence.

One response to “The Euphonious Staccato Rhythm

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s