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Come with Me.

You kneel before me. Her marks on your body; dribbling the liquid paint that signposted her being there. But, she has gone now, and all that you have left is me and I you. She filled the air, the space, the room. Her suffocating presence enclosed and enveloped us both. But now she is gone.

I sit back and gaze upon you. Your breathing returning to normal, the feeling coming back into your body, you are coming back to reality. The floor now hard under your knees and her tear marks are beginning to become sore as the body fights to heal itself.

Her job is done and you are now healing ; outside-in. My job, however is to take you further, take you to the places that you do not wish to go. In my reality there is no subspace surrender for you; only real life pain, no acceptance, no zone, no atonement for crimes once committed. Just you and I. You, are nearly spent, exhausted and broken whereas for me; my working day is just starting. I am refreshed, energised and aroused.

I sit and watch you uncoil and then recoil, as you realise it has only just begun. Your eyes blinking in the light that shines in from the now open window shutters. You have been safe in your dark world. Your dark world; eyes jammed shut. Your dark world, where you could cope with and expect dark things.

Now, it is time for the light, the reprieve, the rapture of the sun on your back, the rivulets of sweat drying and crisping in her gouges. Together my love, we will walk in the light, I will take you, you will be safe with me…I promise. Or maybe not safe, but safe in the knowledge that now is the time for you to take off your heavy armour, free yourself and then you will fly…fly into the light….Come with me.

“Come with me…Come with me…Now!” Pulling on your chain; you lurch forward from the wrists, the metal bracelets, heavy, bruising but so lovely on you. That blissful feeling of being yanked. “Come with me…come with me now!” I am standing, pulling your chain, your arms out-stretched in front, you clamber to your feet, falling forward and stumbling. That blissful feeling of being yanked into life. I see your erection and know that I am on task.

“Come with me now!” I am walking to the door, only one pair of footsteps on the stone floor; my boots, your naked feet make no sound. On opening the door, turning to smile I see your angelic face. Pale and ghostly, your eyes hollow and sunken; yet you manage to give me the most beautiful smile…you always do and it makes me happy.

“Come with me now!” I pull on the chain, tripping down the stairs you are out onto the gravel. I pull you up and we walk in silence; listening to the birds chattering about their day and the bees gossiping about the Queen. I am kind, I know that I am kind…it feels ok. It is nice to be nice, so I allow you to walk on the grass, I see the relief in your eyes as you step onto the cool wetness.

“Come with me my love” At the top of the cliff we make love, “Come to me my love” The warm sun upon your back, your sticky blood under my nails. “Cum with me my love, before she comes back for you”.

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About Prim Quim

I am an artist and therapist. I work within the themes of sexuality, repression, guilt, greed, contradiction, objectification, compulsion, itches that need to be scratched and bruises that need to be pressed. I am a consentual bruise presser, a boundary straddler and limit pusher. I interview people and witness their lives, I write about what I see, how I feel and all the beautiful fragments that make up my reality. I am the sum of all my parts - some bits move and other parts are static, some bits need oiling and other bits just run and run. I am both subject and object to myself. I am slave to my Art and so are the others who come into my sphere. I objectify and use, interrogate and examine - I need their reality and reasoning to lay alongside my own to compare, contrast, season and gorge upon. Exponent of automatic writing, compulsive self realisation and daring myself to go further.

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