Sometimes I ask Him to look me in the eye and hurt me

It’s the hardest thing to ask for. I still don’t fully understand why pain would make me wet. I don’t identify with the label of masochist. It is under his hand that it makes me fly.

I find my need for pain embarrasing. Its red raw mouth is connected to an embodied me I tried to escape from into books and other heady hobbies for most of my life. And I was a feminist, I worked with battered women. No man would ever lay a finger on me and get away with it.

Then I stumble into a book tinged with erotica and sprinkled with references to a kind of relationship that I respond to. After years of shutting down I find myself dripping as I read it. Without recognising this insight’s import I immediately put this in the service of my husband. Treating him to sex with a newly moist wife and following the author to another place, and finding more questions to ask in the black and white and red of fetlife.

I try, we try, to open up conversations, to move things and change the internal bondage for rope worn on the outside, with consent and for mutual pleasure instead of simply because of habit and expectations. It is a desperate act and I begin to swim in my own sea for hours at a time. Frustrating and enraging him with my sudden taking back of what was so freely spent on him before.

And then I find someone who dares to hurt me but promises not to harm me. Who insists I keep my eyes open whilst he peels me for his pleasure and my life explodes.

The centre cannot hold. Emotions run too high, too free, like gigantic toddlers leaving chaos in their wake. Furniture and windows are broken,, children are traumatised and the marks from the wounds on the inside become visible on the outside. A marriage is over.

Stunned I retreat, regroup and survey. Look back at the landscape covered so far and see that it did indeed include a man who hurt me and got away with it until now. But I am a changed creature. Something has been called from me and given a place to live. My need for pain has moved from the subconscious to the conscious. In this place I am complete. Naked, with marks, owned, complete.

I ask him to hurt me and look deep into his eyes while he does it. In that moment we are connected, swimming in a sea we make together that covers the earth and all the mountains. My need is his pleasure is my pleasure is his need.

Thank you Master x

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

14 thoughts on “Sometimes I ask Him to look me in the eye and hurt me

  1. This is so profoundly personal – thank you for sharing. This: “…to move things and change the internal bondage for rope worn on the outside…” is a really striking sentence. Once fantasies become reality, all hell breaks loose, eh?

    Liked by 1 person

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