‘Cause I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all…
I’ve been thinking about sex and pain. Or, more accurately, painful sex. The deeply-felt, internal pain with intercourse, not sex with accompanied pain in other places.
I’ve been checked out by the doctor and, according to him, my female parts are all in fine working order. There is no obvious reason for the pelvic pain that often accompanies sex. So I figure it’s just a damn good thing I’m a masochist, otherwise, I’d be screwed.
Heh. I said screwed. 
The other day, Master’d sent me under the desk for His favorite sexual pasttime of under-the-desk fucking. There is a definite disconnect that occurs with under-the-desk fucking. I can’t see Him, I can’t touch Him, I can’t talk to Him and I really can’t hear Him. His voice, on the rare occasion He tries to talk to me down there, is muffled, far off, distant.
Which is all well and good and as it should be and whatever other smarmy phrase fits here. That IS the purpose of the under-the-desk fucking. I am, as Master tells me, a masturbation tool, nothing more, nothing less. He’s happily lost in His own little world, looking at porn, reading porn, watching porn videos. I’m forgotten, silent, a “thing”. It’s the grown-up equivalent of locking himself in the bathroom with mom’s handlotion and the JC Penney catalogue opened to the women’s underwear section.
I am allowed to get myself off if I want to. But my pleasure during an under-the-desk occasion is not His concern. In other circumstances He’s a very generous lover, making sure I’ve orgasmed several times before coming Himself, but under the desk is different. I am the pocket pussy and pocket pussies don’t need consideration. He’d not worry that the pocket pussy was pleasured and so, down there, He doesn’t worry if I am pleased. If I am, it’s all my own doing, with my thoughts and my fingers and the rythmic pumping of His cock in my unmoving cunt.
I’ve gotten quite good at it over the years. I can come, I can have out-of-this-world orgasms that zing through my entire body and make my eyes cross, and not move one half of an inch out of position or make one audible sound. Other than the pulse of my cunt around His cock, a sure-fire indication of my doings, He’d have no clue to my pleasures I don’t think. And I can continue to hold perfectly still and perfectly silent through that awfully intense, highly sensitive, immediate post-orgasmic minute as He carries on pumping in and out of me.
And I can hold perfectly still and remain almost silent as He pounds away at me through deep, internal pelvic pain.
On this occasion, His deep thrusts and the constant pelvic pressure that spiked with each upward thrust was feeling divine. It was feeling good. I kept catching myself thrusting back against Him each time He stabbed in, trying to deepen and harden the upshot, to raise the pain up a notch. He rose to the unspoken challenge and began slamming me, knocking into me so hard that I fell forward, smashing my face into the carpet and getting rugburn on my forehead.
The pain was intense, but just right. And later, after I’d crawled out and sucked Him of my juices, I sat on the floor cradling my abdomen and waiting for the sharp cramp to fade to a dull ache. He sat in a chair and I noticed that He was cradling His groin.
“Ow.” He said. I looked at Him quizzically. Ow was usually my line.
“Ow?” I repeated.
He nodded. “When I fuck you like that, there’s no give. It hurts sometimes.”
I blinked. “It hurts YOU?” I was confused and… appalled. He hurt? For my pleasure? My brain was twitching. He’d never indicated that fucking me so violently caused Him anything but extreme yum. “But…. why?”
Misunderstanding what I was asking an explanation for, He reached out and began jabbing His finger on the unweilding wood of the desk. “It’s like fucking this,” He said, His fingertip bending with each jab. “Whatever my dick is hitting inside of you doesn’t give. Too long and too hard and my dick gets sore.”
“But why do You do it?” I asked again. “If it hurts, I mean.”
He just smiled knowingly, in that secretive, there-are-things-you-don’t-need-to-know way, that is, I think, particular to evil dominants, and patted me on the head. “Oh, you’ll figure it out soon enough.” and off He went, leaving me to hate not being able to stamp my feet and demand that I be told what I want to know when I want to know it. (Which is maddening, really, don’t you think? I think so.)
I’m not going to claim that after a fuck of that sort I walk bowlegged, or that I’m hunched over in pain. Nothing quite that dramatic. I do sit a bit gingerly. I do ache in my pelvic region. I do cringe at the thought of fucking again anytime soon.
And by soon I mean anytime in the next week. But Master tends to have other ideas. No surprise there, really.
It was the next day though. I would say He waited a whole day in order to let me recover, but that would be a lie. The only thing that happens in a days time is swelling, bruising, and increased tenderness. Just the touch of His cock against my pussy lips and I hissed.
And He smiled. He… leered.
“Hurt?” He asked, pressing harder against me.
“Yes, Sir.” I answered between whimpers.
“You’re tight. Swollen.” He said, more to Himself than to me, still pressing, pushing, forging entrance through the bruised tissue. Again I whimpered out a “yes, Sir”. He pinned my legs back and in simple, missionary style sex, with not a toy around, no bondage, no smacking, no effort, He made me cry.
This was not the good pain that I bucked back against, this was deeper, sharper, more intimate. A pain I couldn’t harness and direct. A pain that consumed my mind and my body, a pain that took every ounce of willpower I had to not resist, leaving nothing left to control the whimpers and quiet cries that flowed on each breath, nothing left to control the trembles that racked my limbs, nothing left to mask my face. Genuine, naked, vulnerable pain.
He drank it in, He leaned His ear close to my mouth so as to not miss a single whimper and He hurt me. “This is why,” He said, barely rocking His hips against mine while I shivered beneath Him. “So easy.” He breathed.
When a single, unchecked, gutteral sob escaped from my lips to caress His earlobe, He softly cried out “Oh. God.” and shuddered to an orgasm.
Later, still feeling exposed and vulnerable, I curled up close to Him, seeking reassurance and comfort. He pulled me to Him and let me find my own way back. I always do.
“You’re mean.” I accused, tracing my finger around His nipple.
“Yes.” He said.
“That really hurt.” I pouted, feeling around for any hint of regret or apology on His part.
“Good.”
I grinned against His chest. “Bastard.” I said affectionately. He laughed, the sound echoing through His chest and into my ear. I sighed, contented. Sore and achy – but happy.
It is as it should be.
So glad He’s home.
~cunt
November 25, 2008 9:17 am 
“That really hurt”
“Good”
“Bastard” (affectionately of course)
Lol, how often Daddy and I are having the same interaction. It’s funny how I tell him that something he did hurt me and checking if there’s any regret on his side while at the same time not expecting anything different than “good” in response. I actually think that’s why I tell him that something has hurt in the first place: to hear that he is still my evil bastard. I mean, imagine him responding with something like “oh, my god you poor baby – let me to make you some tea and a warm water bottle for the ouchies. I’ll never hurt you again!” *Shudders*.
I’m really glad as well that your Master is home again. lol! Hot post!
I see that today is not a good grammar day for me. Sigh. You know what would be really cool? An edit button! lol!
Is he possibly nailing your cervix? I know that causes tear inducing cramps, terrible pain, pelvic pressure, and not-of-the-good-variety pain. Your cervix does not like being invaded. At all.
“But why do You do it?” I asked again. “If it hurts, I mean.”
…“Oh, you’ll figure it out soon enough.”
And you did…don’t you just love patience? LOL
i am glad that he is home and you are enjoying some good, and not so good, pain again.
i am glad that your Master is home.
i laughed at the “leaving me to hate not being able to stamp my feet and demand that I be told what I want to know when I want to know it.”
over the weekend i got a tad out of line and Mistress said “you are dead meat!!!”. i havent been punished yet…it is tuesday. Mistress refuses to tell me how or when i am going to be punished either. i was hoping She had forgot but She didnt.
*gulp*
You know I’m so there with you on the painful sex!
(And, just so you know, this was another particularly brilliant post.)
just wanted to drop by and say hi and let ya know i am still around….blog got a worm….damn things….got someone working on it right now…trying to fix it! this sucks!
i love this post……really makes me think for whatever reason. Thanks!
Have a great holiday!!!!!
I agree with Zille. A wonderfully written post kaya.
Kaya,
Sounds like someone had a “very good time.” Revel in it, it’s who and what you are. You know, that all sounded so fucking cool. Is it okay to be a little envious of your Master?
Dave
kaya,
i have to say…that is the hottest post i have read in forever! i am glad your Master is home also!
*huggles* Glad you getting laid, hunny. Even if it hurts in the not so fun way
Kaya,
I have been poking around your lovely site for about 4 months now (yeah, sorry about the shyness and not commenting sooner *wince*). But I have to say that this is one of the most gorgeous posts I have ever read. You utterly rock my world. I adore you and your Master.
Always:
S.S.S
YAY! kaya got some. *Jumps around n’ cheers* Glad he is home. Loved to post and apparently so did browser because it failed to log me out all night and day long. So no I wasn’t here 12hours or more. * smacks the computer* That should take care of the retarded crap for awhile.
I’m so happy he’s home. Back to filth again, huh?
*hoping*
Man, I am envious of your under the desk fucks, they sound awesome + painful + demeaning.
After all these years, your writing still takes my breath away, cupcake.
:-*
“When a single, unchecked, gutteral sob escaped from my lips to caress His earlobe, He softly cried out “Oh. God.” and shuddered to an orgasm.”
i have NEVER read anything that made me clench so hard in deep places.
i think i left a puddle. =/
[...] turned on by the details i read of another couple having sex, or another slave being used like a piece of meat, of yet another being treated as a pet and my sexual desires grow as if a flame out of control and [...]