Maidenhead

§

Elijah came towards me through the darkness of the bathroom. This was our place to find each other while Gayl was in the other room wrapped up in sheets. Elijah’s white robe was a heap on the floor. My hands were tied behind my back with a towel. I was sucking his cock without limbs. I started feeling like my head was my whole self.

‘You’re such a good cocksucker,’ Elijah said.

The two of us were psychic, master and slave. Only the master knows what the slave really wants, no matter how many times she runs away.

There was a ribbon of light from the slit in the door. Elijah grabbed on to the back of my head. He went so deep inside me I started to choke. I tried to turn my cheek to his stomach. My sucking stopped. I couldn’t breathe. Elijah was moaning going in me and speeding up my name. When I forced my mouth off him I felt her there, right at the door.

‘Don’t be scared,’ said Elijah, turning me back to him. ‘You don’t need to be scared.’

Was I scared? I wasn’t fucking scared! I let him go back in my mouth. I wanted my wrists tied even tighter, I wanted them tied properly, tied with leather, proper with rope. Then I would open myself more instead of going titillating tight. It’s true that only an asshole is tight.

‘You’re a princess,’ Elijah whispered as I sucked for him. He held me up by my hair. ‘Exactly like this on your knees. A princess warrior bitch.’

Sweat rose from my back like a carpet alive, it dripped from my armpits, it fired my scalp. In my mouth he was as hard as a rail. My mouth sucked him perfect and my cunt lit up. My mouth and my cunt were completely connected. I could implode and come and come and come.

Elijah’s cock shook, then he pulled out and left me completely.

A burning-hot raindrop hit my eye.

His whole body vibrated; both his hands were on his heart. There was pain in my eye, blinding tears. I used his robe to wipe my face.

According to Hegel, the slave fully acknowledges the self-consciousness of the master and she dissolves herself or upholds herself as their relationship dictates and evolves to the struggle unto death. Although this struggle is a failure, according to Hegel, if someone actually dies.

I started laughing. I didn’t know why but I felt good.

Elijah hugged me into himself. Curls of his hair down there stuck to my cheeks.

‘You’re such a good cocksucker,’ Elijah said.

I squeezed my eyes shut. The burning didn’t leave.

I felt his cock heavy, hanging down at my neck. It seemed like a necklace, a part of my body; for a second, I thought it was mine.

‘You can have it,’ Elijah said.

I was in a struggle unto death. His cock was my new talisman.

§

The ravine expanded through my tears. My mother missed my birthday. I turned seventeen. My father had ordered an ice-cream cake and sunk eighteen rainbow candles in it. Being eighteen is freedom. It felt like my mother would never be a mother again.

‘Your dad’s worried about you, Myra. He told me that sometimes you don’t come home at night.’

‘Just give me a minute.’

I didn’t want to be crying anymore. I didn’t want my father talking to Lee while I was pissing either.

‘You’re sensitive,’ Lee whispered. ‘It’s so tender, Myra. Come on, it’s really tender. It’s so tender it could kill someone.’

I dug in my fingers to the roots of the grass.

‘Your mother knows you’re sensitive too.’

I cried then, a lot. I thought it had stopped but it hadn’t. I felt it on my cheeks, in my throat and deep inside my stomach. I felt like such a female. As if this kind of pain were the wobbling, howling essence of that.

‘Don’t talk to my dad anymore about anything,’ I got out. ‘I don’t want him to know what I’m doing. He’s going to tell Jody and Jody’ll tell my mom and I don’t want my mother to know fucking anything about me!’