Held Hostage

He comes to me. Not in the conventional way, but from long distance, and the ring of a phone call. With that ring, I’m transported into his fantasy. He is inside of my mind. I know his touch, the taste of him, the smell of him, the heat of his body … as it melts against me … and I’m inside of him. Captured. Held hostage in a memory that no longer brings … a physical touch.

He tests me. Playing with my words as if it were chess. If I make this move, I become the pawn in his torrid passion. Shall I try for the knight? There is no rescue from the throaty voice that haunts me in my memory. Two spaces up and one to the right … I’m in front of him. Escape is not possible. The game continues.

It continues, without will. This back and forth, side to side … can’t catch me, but you can corner me, I’m helpless in his plan. That hidden essence of the lost woman within, brought out of me … taught me that I can be matched … and still love the game. It challenges me to run … and I did. Yet; he finds me … and I rejoice that he has.

Tho far from his warmth, I see his body that lingered above me … and toyed with my womanhood … is still so close, and yet … the space separates before it can become one. That oneness that I felt … is only within myself. I do not share him, as he would share me. I can’t ask … for he is the one that determines what I will or will not have with him.

I find myself weak. Having never turned him down … well, only once. Even then, my body was screaming at me to take back the words. Let it go, enjoy what he brings out of you, this is your mirror … see how you are changing? My mask, thrown aside, the woman within … laid naked, open to receive as much male essence, as he would allow me.

Do I beg for his words to soothe my sexual tension and find that my body is the only imagine embedded in my bed? His hands, which caressed my breasts, are only mine … a mere substitute for his, can’t be felt, but only in my memories. Such evasiveness, no will to commit to what is or what was … which only remains those memories for which we go back and forth … not moving forward.

Does this make me weak? Altho, weak from his mouth that pressed against me … I hear no words to secure the kiss, that once struck fire in my veins. I am compelled to follow his commands… without question, pause or thought … and yet; in my right mind, I would never allow this act of dominance upon me.

He calls … and I’m transported into his fantasy. What reality hides from me, is found within these few moments, spent on a wireless device that brings him so close. And when the connection is broken, I am no closer than I was before he called. And I feel taken. Held as a prisoner, of my own imagination. No bondage, but the ties of a memory, that was shared between us… and lays in wait … for his voice to call.

What makes you feel like losing control with someone?
Or can you?

Warm Wishes to you,
©Maggies2wishes 2025