Mittelschmerz!
Think I just cussed you out in German? 
In other words, it feels like someone has stabbed a hot poker into your side. Sex during mittelschmerz feels like someone is repeatedly stabbing a hot poker into your side. A hot poker with spikes that are coated in tobasco sauce and covered with razor wire.
It hurts.
Yesterday was my mittelschmerz day. Accompanied by the beginnings of a killer headache and I was in fine form. Well, fine form for anyone with the option of popping two aspirin and curling up in bed with a good book to ride out the discomfort that is. Not so fine form for a slave with a horny Master.
I informed Him of my pain, both in my head and in my side. I wasn’t trying to use them as excuses so much as an exchange of pertinent information. Just as if He’d told me He was going to drive the car into town I would tell Him it was low on gas. I offer the information and He does with it what He will.
He acknowledged my pain. And pointed me to my hands and knees anyway. C’est la vie.
I did ask Him if He would start out slow, just to give my body time to adjust (in hopes that my ovaries would find a place to hide) and probably He thinks He did start slow. But He didn’t. At least, it didn’t feel slow on my end. But more than likely, the only thing that can be slow enough at that moment is not at all.
I’m not going to sugarcoat the pain of it. Sometimes, whatever it is we are doing turns into a self-lecture. For real, I could be a motivational speaker to reluctant masochists everywhere! I’m *that* good at talking myself into ‘taking it like a man’.
At some point, and perhaps it was my white-knuckled grip on the carpet or my frequent hissing that gave it away, but He asked me if it hurt. I assume “no shit, Sherlock!” wasn’t the answer He was looking for. A simple “yes, Sir” did the trick. Enough to spur Him into the faster-deeper-harder part.
There are times when I’m reading a journal somewhere and, especially if it’s someone I know or have been reading for a long time, I’ll find myself getting angry at the sadist for his “mistreatment” of my friend. Even with my passing knowledge of masochism and the how and why of our make-up, I still have a hard time easily accepting that they want this.
I remember the first time I watched Taylor and Carrie play, I literally plonked myself down behind Master’s leg. I had to turn away a time or two. I squeezed His leg and bit my lip and made big round saucer eyes of shock at Him when He’d peek down at me. He, on the other hand, loved it. He got hard. He gave me wiggly eyebrows while I looked on in indignation on Carrie’s behalf.
Fact is, sometimes it just doesn’t look very pretty in the moment. Now, almost immediately after their play had finished, when I saw the dopey look on Carrie’s face, the flush of excitement, the energy, the rush – well, I’m all on board with it. But to see it so personally, so up close, to watch her struggle and cry, to hear the sounds of his fist pounding into her flesh and her echoing yelp of pain – it’s.. disturbing.
I think I might have told Master that Taylor was a mean old bastard. (Sorry Taylor!)
So, I was debating about mentioning Master’s use of me yesterday here at all. Because I know, since I do it myself, how some people are going to react to the very idea that He’d be callous enough, mean enough, to use me so harshly at a time like that.
Because I don’t think there is a way to communicate, accurately, why I need that sort of treatment. How, had He chosen instead to put me to bed and coddle my ailments instead of pleasing Himself first, something inside of me would have withered and turned black. It just isn’t pretty as it happens.
The pretty comes later.
I got down on my knees and put my head on the floor. I gripped into the carpet hard enough to tear a few fingernails. I cocked my ass in the air and held my position as He tore into me – or so it felt. I hissed and breathed through each agonizing thrust, every one feeling like something ripping away in my side. When I sensed Him getting close I asked Him to take me hard(er) and fast(er), I wanted to savor every ridiculously painful moment in as much un-pretty glory as I could stand, and He did, almost knocking me over into a somersault as the pain reached a magnificent crescendo.
I came just after He did, right when He stopped thrusting, right when the pain dropped down a notch. I didn’t orgasm from the pain, not at all. It wasn’t erotic pain in any sense. I came from the use, the callousness, the insensitive cruelty.
After I’d righted myself and wiped the wetness from my eyes and looked up at Him, I whined a small and pitiful “that hurt” and He nodded, gave a curt “I know” and slammed His wet, sticky cock in my mouth to clean it off.
And then the pretty comes. It’s in the air and in our expressions and in our eyes. It’s in the lingering touches and small secret smiles. The emotions we feel. The energy we radiate, His powerful and hard, mine compliant and docile.
So should anyone think that Master is a mean old bastard and wish to rescue me from His maltreatment, please don’t. As Master likes to say “It’s all good.”
And when it’s good, it’s very good.
~cunt
Tags: M/s rambles, smut
Uncategorized | kaya | 
Thursday October 30th, 2008 9:03am
Fuck. See, sometimes, I whine that my Owner doesn’t do this to me. At all. I don’t get use against my will, well… much.
And damnit. I crave it. I want to melt and be putty and get those after-feelings. And he wont give it to me, because… he WANTS me to like it to be there with him, in that moment and enjoy it. Enjoying my submission to his will, isn’t enough. I must enjoy whatever he is doing to me, or he wont do it.
Sometimes, I love that. Because I’m very sure we’re doing it HIS way, and not mine. Other times… I bitch about that. Quietly, but I do. But… i’m alligning. I’m adjusting. I’m becoming his. And someday, I wont have that struggle, that want to submit to things I don’t like, anymore…. and then I dislike that. Because it’s so… ME. And it’ll be gone. And I don’t want to let it go.
So.. yeah… sometimes this sucks. While I’m very happy that I don’t get the kind of whippings or beatings like you and Carrie do (because I’m a whimp, and I’ll whine and bitch my way through those), I dunno. I envy you. As much as I don’t want the things you’re being put through, I want the use. I crave it.
Gah. Stoopid shit. I’m gonna shut up now and go back to pretending I want to like what’s happening to me as it’s happening to me. Someday, that’ll be completely true.
OMFG am I there with you on that pain!
I used to have NO problems.
Until I got my tubes tied.
Even as I sit here twitching and licking my lips, I’m glad as HELL Carter doesn’t want to touch me with a ten foot pole anywhere near that time of the month. -snicker-
God, I thought there was something fucked up with me! I go through this every month now too after having my tubes tied. My doc keeps saying I’m fine although I feel anything but. My sex drive has also suffered terribly since having my tubes tied. Doc says that is “normal” but it certainly isn’t pleasant.
No, it isn’t just you!
Within about 12 hours before I start bleeding, I’ll start feeling the pain. As soon as it hits, I pop four Motrin. They work wonders. If you’re good about timing the ‘when’ of it all, you can take the Motrin before and it won’t be an issue. And those four usually do the trick. I don’t think I’ve had to take another four but twice, usually when I’m doing a serious amount of moving (shopping, cleaning, etc) throughout the day.
Course your milage/situation might vary so yanno…
That sucks on the hormone thing. I guess I lucked out there. Has he suggested ways to fix that?
“Mittelschmerz.” I was 16 years old and attending a play the first time this happened to me. I had visions of being taken away in an ambulance. That white hot poker thing took my breath away and made my heart feel like it didn’t fit correctly in my chest anymore. It’s not as bad now that I’ve gotten older (oooh! an advantage!), but the thought of having sex, or even bending much….Owie! I might be kind of a sissy masochist.
I had never heard of this before until my daughter was rushed to the hospital three weeks ago. $15K worth of tests finally came to this diagnosis. Ouch is all I can say.
Oh! And as far as the ‘all good’ part – the energy you radiate between you shows up here. It’s beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with us.
Blush
I know what you mean. I can not watch someone be really tortured, even if I know she is a complete painslut. It makes me hide my face. It makes me feel sorry for her. It makes me think the guy doing it is a sorry bastard.
And I hate getting it at the time but you know exactly how that comes out later on.
We are seriously fucked up. You know that?
I can not watch someone be really tortured, even if I know she is a complete painslut.
lol – I have the same thing. Sometimes I read something and I think “wait, that can’t be fun anymore!” even though I know my friend is exactly where she needs to be.
And hating something while it’s happening but enjoying it after it already happened sounds so familiar to me! Perhaps I’m fucked up as well but at least I’m in excellent company.
Kaya,
You described exactly what I felt the first time I rad your blog over a year ago (God, has it been that long). I wanted to fire off a comment imploring you to stop letting Him do that to you (I have no idea which post it was, but it was one of the merciless pain inflicting ones). I didn’t though. To this day, I can only way that soemthing in what you wrote warned me off (it wasn’t an explicit one). Instead, I went back and read every last post you had in your archives, trying to understand you. I htink I managed to get it.
I know there are going to be sports people who pale at what I’m about to say, but I liken your hate/love relationship with pain to training for intense sports. I went out for football once, in Jr. High and never did it again. Training sucks and is painful. To be any good, you have to be willing to suffer soem in the training. I wasn’t. But, I did see othe rkids who would go through the same training and, instead of moaning and groaning in the locker room afterwards, they’d be laughing about how good the day had been; the same day that they’d been complaining about 30 minutes earlier!
So, yeah, I get it. Now, after that weekend with my friend in Anahiem, I get it even more. I actually dished out soem pain to her that weekend (about an eyedropper full compared to what He gives you) and she definately didn’t like it when it was happening. While she’s not a masochist and didn’t get that rush you get from it, she did enjoy that I was able and willing to force her to take it. And, before anyone asks, yes I enjoyed doing it, though I’m certainly not a sadist. My enjoyment came from knowing I was being allowed to.
Anyway…(bunny trail!) I get it and I’m glad you get what you need so badly. Unlike some, I think I couod watch and anjoy watching, provided I KNEW that the submissive really wanted/needed it. Have some more fun, it’s only a little pain…
Dave
I envy your ability to articulate what’s in your gut and heart. I have a disconnect from my brain to my mouth. Tonight I wrote in my journal…
*** but then… i get to feel normal … happy and content ..in a very weird violent tender kind of way…***
you said – …and then the pretty comes.
that’s it! …and then the pretty comes.
and yeah – I can’t watch others either… I hide my eyes.
Yes, yes, yes.
I know that pain, all too well! When I first started getting my period (about age 12) I basically was in bed for five days every month, moaning and wanting to die.
Then I finally got put on the pill at 16 (not a moment too soon, not least of which because I’m sure I’d have gotten preggers without it!) and my periods became the sorts of things I hear most other women talk about: bloating, headaches, “cramps”.
Every once in a while, the ol’ mittelschmerz comes back for a “Didja miss me” visit. No, I hadn’t! And I’m so lucky birth control (mostly) works for containing it!
——————————————-
Ah, but pain during sex … how I need it, how I love it. I may be miserable in the moment, but I masturbate about it the rest of the time!
Actually, nowadays, I have learned enough about myself that even during the worst of the pain, some part of me still cherishes the pain, and tries to memorize it to play back when I masturbate next time….
And I know just what you mean about needing to be used, or a part of the slave-you withers and dies….
As always, a wonderful post — bonus points for writing it even while you suffer through menstrual pains!
[...] wrote in her post Mittelschmerz about looking into an M/s or D/s relationship from the outside, and it got me thinking. About how [...]