There’s an exquisite moment of reversal when I hold you down. When you stop fighting, when
There’s an exquisite moment of reversal when I hold you down. When you stop fighting, when your arms stop squirming and struggling, and you just give up. No, you don’t give up. Let me rephrase. When you give in. That’s better. When you give in, your hand stops trying to get away from mine, it stops pulling and pushing, trying to find the bit of give that just isn’t there, and instead clings to my fingers, my palms. I’m still holding you down, but you’re holding me there, keeping me keeping you. Suddenly, you’re complicit in your own detention, closing your own cell door before I come around with my nightstick and close it myself. And that’s when your body really comes alive, and starts to work with me, rather than against me. We do the same merry dance each time, and yet that moment, when everything turns, that exquisite pivot, never ceases to be quite so delicious. -- source link
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