Faking It: (“O’ God”)

Last week He had pinched her butt as He said it.  It was supposed to be sort of playful.  The mood was light and she said it too.  She still wondered if she meant it, but it didn’t seem to matter.

Sometimes He would buy her flowers and whisper it softly, and at times He would tell it to her with jewelry. Those were the times that she thought she felt it too; those wonderfully sweet moments when her heart overflowed.  She’d stroke His face and kiss Him softly and whisper “I love you”, even as she wondered whether those feelings were real.

But this wasn’t one of those times.  This was the perfunctory we’re-married-therefore-we-have-to-say-it kind of “I love you”. This was when duty called and she went along with it.  She was good at going through the motions.  She knew how to make it look believable.  She wondered if He bought it.  She wondered if it mattered.

“I love You. You’re my One and Only.  You’re beautiful. You’re strong. You’re smart. You’re kind.”  He seems to accept this as if it was His due. She allows herself to be kissed as she continues with the accolades.

He kisses her possessively and she dutifully moans.  He seems to like that.  He strokes her cheek and tells her how her beauty overwhelms Him. She feels His love, and tries hard to bask in its warmth.  It is not warm enough. After all, she has been flattered and sincerely admired many a time.  Yet throughout it all she never strayed.  Not the genuine appreciation, at times sweet affection, nor naked desire could get her to forget the responsibilities that were so deeply ingrained. At the end of the day she always accepted her position and her duty, and resisted the many who tried to court her.  Though many had tempted, but she knew that she couldn’t.  She knew she wouldn’t.  Because she’d never have the heart to hurt Him.  And because she had signed up for this even if it hadn’t been entirely her choice.  This was her life, and she usually liked it. She preferred the security, the comfort, the peace of mind.

She wishes she could feel it too.

She angles her face to kiss Him again and tries to pour her heart into it, but it isn’t working. Sure, she likes him and all, for the most part anyway.  But there is none of the intense love she so desperately longs to experience.   She stares into those dark and inscrutable eyes and wonders what she is supposed to feel.  She would readily admit that technically He was incredibly handsome.  His deep set eyes, chiseled chin and Prince Charming looks are what fairytale heroes are made of. And He has that incredible way of leavening that heavy masculinity with a dashing smile of pearly whites, when His dimple in His right cheek would wink so endearingly.  Indeed apparently He seemed to send so many hearts aflutter. She just wishes it would do something for her.  So what if He’s supposedly brilliant? She though.  And super sweet.  And considerate and compassionate.  Yipdeedoo.  Not only isn’t she really certain whether it is definitively so or not, but she’s got the distinct impression that He wants to hear that it is true. Repeatedly. So she says it time and again.  She doesn’t understand why He so loves to be praised; seemingly unconcerned with the sincerity.  Just her saying it, seems like enough.  It satisfies, though she cannot fathom why.

She wonders why someone like Him who seems so certain of Himself, who considers Himself the Be all and End all, would need the constant reassurance.

The lovemaking is lacking intensity and though she is going through the proper motions and her pleasure looks believable there is still no passion.  So He spanks her hard.  She wonders whether that was for her own or His pleasure, she’s further confused when after, he runs His hand over her butt cheek to attempt to ease the sting.  He bends down to kiss away the pain, but then suddenly shifts gears again when He slides His hands upwards softly and then suddenly He pinches her nipples hard. She bucks wildly.  She’s confused by the inconsistencies and by the way the lovemaking was unpredictably shifting back and forth in tone. From her end, He is causing pain not passion; but apparently He seems to find it necessary. She had read somewhere that He was hurting her for her own sake, so as to create a sort of fervor.  If not quite to arouse then to incite, the article claimed that the pain was intended to bring them closer.  To make her turn to Him.

She wondered then as she wonders now whether it is all a load of bullshit, even as she finds herself clinging to Him.   “Oh God!” she whimpers.  And He keeps spanking her, harder.  She is sore and in pain and she finally thinks that she’s feeling it.  That connection.  But even as she sees that He is coming closer to hitting His peak, it isn’t quite getting her off.  And she knows why too.

There used to be a time that she felt comfortable with Him.  A time when she always turned to Him for comfort, for release, for advice.  But things had changed.  Some would blame the World Wide Web, others would call it “exposure”, and she couldn’t definitively counter that.  Indeed it was online that she was introduced to what she often thought of as better.  Sites she visited that told her that He wasn’t the Only One. And He wasn’t all that great, all that powerful, all that *big*.  It ruined her private moments.  Those thoughts she struggled to keep at bay, intruded when she wanted them least.

At first she’d attempted to shut her mind off and turn all of her attention towards Him, but those websites keep encroaching, entering her subconscious, and then conscious mind.  She struggles harder with the right movements, the right sounds, but comes up short with procuring the right feelings.

He lifts her up, and settles her into position as he attempts to enter her.  “Oh God!” she cries again as he fills her.  She arches and reaches for him.  It looks convincing. He seems to believe it.  He seems happy.  Does it matter if she doesn’t feel it?

Afterwards, she rolls over feeling empty and wondering why she goes along with it.  Why she goes through the motions of pleasing Someone Who she isn’t even certain matters.  Someone Who she wonders whether he truly even cares. But there is comfort here in this life.  Security.  And while she waits for the love to grow over time, or perhaps to one day find that she has desperately fallen in love, she knows that for the time being, she’ll go on and continue faking it.

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Tags: devotion, God, love, sex