Sweet Submission

Appalachian Trail Mile, 1947.1

8/23/2022

Whack! 

Another branch, wails the back of my leg.

I whisper under my breath,

Thank you Mistress, may I have another?

I stumble, slip, and fall…again.

The thick mud, made of some sort of clay and

A stink I have never smelled before, clings to my ass

And the back of my thighs.

I take a deep breath, sigh, and pull myself up again.

This time I speak a little louder.

Thank you Mistress, may I have another?

I continue to trudge forward, through some sort

Of swampy, high ground slog.

Over logs that have been laid by her servants before me.

They are slippery, and I lose my footing.

I slip in to the deep quick sand like mud.

Up to my knees. 

I move, attempting to pull my leg out.

I just sink deeper, up to my mid-thigh in this disgusting mire. 

“She” is trying to pull my shoe off.  Mocking me, in my attempt to hike

Her trails.

 I finally relax and laugh.

What the hell am I doing here?

I yell ahead to the group that I am with, “help?!”

With a helping hand, I am able to pull myself up and out, WITH my shoe.

Thank the Gods!

I wash myself off, in her stream, and continue to move forward. 

What else can I do?

I thank “her” and ask for another bit of punishment. Please?

Up ahead I see the trail as she winds downwards to another steep descent.

My knees quiver with anticipation.

Slippery rocks, smooth as glass, and wet.

Fuck. 

I continue to move forward.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

One step.  Two steps. 

I am sweating from the sheer amount of work it takes to think myself through each move.

Each step, so very thoughtful as to not slip.

But no!

She throws up another root.  It grabs my foot.

I slip and she busts my ass. 

Again.

This time I scream in pain.

Thank you Mistress, may I have another!!

She will not defeat me. 

Less than 250 miles remaining.

250 miles of the “most difficult” trail.

I haven’t decided yet, is it difficult because the body is just done?

Given everything it can?

Or is it all in my mind?

The Appalachian Trail Through Hike, is not for the faint of heart.

The Trail is like a cruel Mistress.

A beautiful, punishing Dominatrix, that demands your full attention and

Absolutely destroys you for it.

She pulls everything from you and when you think you can’t possibly take more.

When your body is broken and bleeding,

you crawl through a narrow crevasse of the path ahead,

And she opens herself up to you.

In all her glory, with beaming pride, she shows you the World.

Quite literally, through her sadistic eyes, you see the most magnificent view,

She takes your breath away.

Her body, undulating across the landscape.

Laid out for you.

Teasing you, pulling you in…again.

You ask for more.

She gives it to you, in the form of sheer torturous pain.

You cry out, Why?!

She never answers you.

You feel a whisper from within, that the answers lie ahead.

So, you continue to move forward.

One foot in front of the other.

Her little forest servants laugh at you, as you pass by.

Cackling, and throwing the remnants of nuts and pinecones pieces at your head from the trees above.

Another spiderweb hits you in the face.

“I can’t possibly be the first one here?”, you think to yourself.

And then you feel a rush of excitement that you might be.

With the sunshine warming the fir and pine needles in to a musky,

earthy type of heaven you never want to leave.

As you breathe the scent of her in,

Thinking it can’t get any better than this?

Then, a bug flies in to your nose, to remind you that this is their home.

Another one continues to bite your leg from behind. 

You swat it, in a futile action. 

It has tasted you and wants more!

And you want more, please?

Once you have had a taste of her,

She is a part of you forever. 

The trail, permeates your brain, stimulates a place inside you

That nothing else can compare.

Why?

Something inside you craves her pain and her beauty. 

A dichotomy that only “she” can give you. 

And when you finish, at the end of your day. 

You will crawl under your quilt,

 and quietly beg,

Thank you Mistress, may I have another?

~Analiese Kennedy aka FoodGuru