A Pain Exploration Story

This is a real story of sex that I had, which I tried to keep as true as to what happened as possible. Therefore, I left in the parts where we take care of each other during sex, because, one, that's what happened, but two, because there's romance in that as well.

This is written as a stand-alone story, but there's some background in my prior story (Fisted on an Acupressure Mat) that might help you enjoy this one. Also, as you'll see below, if you read my first story when it came out, you get to be an actual part of this one, too.

Please enjoy this story! It was a very fun night, I hope you like it, as well.

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After the Literotica story I posted went live a few days ago, my partner read it for the first time. Of course, he had known that I had written and posted it (as well as knowing generally what it said since he was, you know, there at the time), but he hadn't actually read it yet. To be honest, reading it seemed to be quite an eye-opening experience for him. Even though he has conceptually known that I want sex to be much rougher than he does, reading from my viewpoint what rough sex feels like for me helped him feel more comfortable leaning into the harder sides of what sex could be for us.

For the next couple days, the story seemed stuck in his mind; there were times that I caught him just standing in the house, staring at nothing. He took some time to consider the story and the implications that it had on the future of our sex life, but then he began to put his new knowledge into action.

On this day, everything started out pretty normally. There was a change in his behavior, though. Throughout the day he walked up to me and provided a small sensation of pain, rather than the gentle kisses or touches I was used to when he walked by. A sharp slap on the ass, a kiss that ended with his teeth biting into my lip, his hand woven through my hair with his fist gripping and then my neck pulled back so that he could put his teeth directly against my throat. These little interactions increased in intensity throughout the day, leaving me hyper-aware of where he was at all times.

The day continued in that vein until late evening, when I was standing in the kitchen, doing I don't even remember what. He came up behind me, and began groping my ass firmly, squeezing with real intention. When I turned around, he grabbed my face and started kissing me vigorously, holding one hand behind my head, holding his mouth to mine. With my head locked in his embrace, he took his other hand and began kneading my breasts for a few minutes, before unceremoniously shoving his hand down my pants, squeezing my mound and pulling at my pubic hair. I tried to push his face away, telling him that the neighbors might see us through our windows. He answered, "What makes you think I give a fuck what they see? Don't you want everyone knowing how you like to get fucked, anyway?" I laughed, admitting that while I didn't mind it specifically, we do still live here and we should probably take things to the bedroom. He then told me that all the rough touches all day were a promise, and tonight was going to see that promise fulfilled. If I wasn't already wet, that would have done the trick.

I rushed to finish cleaning up so that I could meet him in the bedroom, where he was already setting up. I love having sex while high, and so I quickly packed and smoked a bowl, toking hurriedly in the garage. The cold air made my nipples get even harder, tightening painfully under my bra. As I finished smoking, I felt the wave of the high washing over me, making me feel everything more deeply, more intensely. Getting high always revs my libido to 11, not that I needed any help that night. I took a calm moment to breathe quietly in the cold, feeling myself get even more turned on, tuning into all the raw physical sensations that the drugs helped me feel.

I came back inside and quickly ran upstairs - so excited that I began dancing around light-heartedly to my favorite album, which was already on. I felt too silly and enthusiastic to even settle down at first, which was at a contrast to his very serious attitude. We began making out, which very quickly turned into a continuation of our downstairs kissing - firmer touches than usual, less playfulness on his side. I still felt giddy, singing song lyrics directly into his mouth in between kisses, not sure how to handle his stern exterior.

Suddenly he decided he had had enough of my mischievousness, and his hands changed from flat palms caressing my back with some light pinching, to sharp fingernails biting in deeply and dragging across my skin. The song that was playing didn't have lyrics that suddenly stopped and turned into a moan, but that's what came out of my mouth anyway. I didn't feel playful anymore, I felt ready to be fucked, ready to be hurt.

We continued kissing, his touches getting more aggressive. I realized I needed more, and that he needed better access. I wanted to be helpless, I wanted to be hurt, and all at once I realized our next move. With a quick motion, I unceremoniously shucked off my pants, shirt, and bra, leaving me standing there in only my panties. I grabbed my yoga ball (exercise ball - a couple foot tall springy hollow ball), and draped myself over it in a deep backbend. My feet were firmly planted on the floor, my pussy clothed but available, my breasts completely unencumbered and pointing almost straight up, as if they were an offering just for him. As he looked at my head hanging upside down, I took my arms overhead and began to clasp my hands together. He considered that, then pushed my arms closer together, each hand grabbing the opposite elbow, him holding my hands firmly there so I knew that my hands were in place and shouldn't be moved.

I hung upside down, feeling the blood rushing to my head. He walked out of my view, and then I unexpectedly felt his hand grabbing my crotch. I squealed, and almost fell. With my hands tight around my upper arms, I had little support to balance, and almost tipped over. I felt one of my legs smack into his, then realized he had straddled one of my legs, holding me tightly in place. With full unblocked access to my body, he began kneading me roughly, impatiently. He slapped at my torso, which was stretched in its most vulnerable position. He squeezed my thighs, digging his nails in, and slapped my pussy. He reached down and bit at the delicate undersides of my breasts, making me squeal in pain. Every shock of movement translated to a bouncing of the ball, getting me more and more disoriented, and more helpless.

I felt the pressure around my leg lessen and disappear as he walked around to where my head hung upside down. He sat on the floor in front of me, contemplating his next move. My breasts, naked at his eye level, made an obvious target. Instead, he began by kissing me. Having my eyes closed, being stuck upside down without use of my arms, the feeling of his face against mine, his tongue sliding in my mouth, the added intensity provided by the drugs - all of this made balancing nearly impossible. Without him holding my leg in place, I struggled to keep my feet firm, knowing that if I lost my balance I would come crashing down. In fact, this balancing act felt like an act of bondage, where I needed all of my attention to keep my feet planted and stable. This balance became much harder when he reached out and slapped me hard across my breast.

I gasped into his mouth, my noises turning into a whine. He began mauling my tits, groping them so tightly I knew his knuckles were turning white. Pinching my nipples over and over, long sustained holds, then several quick pinches in a row, using the tips of his nails. He slapped and groped me, his tongue continuing to explore my mouth while the blood rushed to my head and I struggled to maintain my balance. He grabbed my nipples and pulled them up into the air, as if he was trying to lift my breasts off my body from the nipples alone. Eventually he decided I must have had enough of the extreme backbend and tit torment and made to move away, but my cry of 'no, no, no, no' convinced him to give me a few more minutes of the harsh treatment, increasing the pressure of his touch even more.

He quickly stood up and left me hanging, dizzy, panting, when I felt his hands planted on my thighs. In one quick motion, he rolled me forward, landing me in a deep squat with my back against the ball. The movement caused all the blood to drain quickly out of my head, and I was almost sick with the change, the edges of my vision blurring black. I tried to bring my head down towards my knees, but instead felt a hand fisted in my hair, pulling my face into his crotch, shoving his cock in my mouth. I immediately began lathing my tongue on him, sucking to pull him deeper into me. A tightening of his hand in my hair made me cry out, letting his dick fall from my mouth, and he grabbed me by the hips and shoved me backwards, ending up upside down on the ball once again. Holding me in place, he slapped hard at my pussy, and at my delicate inner thighs, where I fought to stay still to keep myself from falling off the ball. His hands on my thighs again, sudden movement rolling me back, his dick in my face once more. I was so dizzy and disoriented that I couldn't tell you which way was up, but I still knew what to do with a cock in my face. I sucked at it lustily, until he pulled himself out, slapped me softly across the face, and then left me huddled on the floor.

While I rested and tried to get my equilibrium back, he set up on the bed. Several months ago, we bought a wedge and ramp set from Liberator, which basically consists of two big foam triangles (a bigger one and a smaller one), that you can configure to various shapes. He set up the small ramp on top of the large wedge, basically making a wide platform a couple of feet off the surface of the bed. He covered this all with a waterproof sheet, ready to go.

He came over to me, where I was still disoriented and quietly moaning from the sheer intensity of feeling, and checked how I was doing. He gave me some water, and confirmed I wasn't too dizzy to stand. He gently helped me up, but instead of taking me over to the bed, he brought me over to the wall. He tenderly placed each of my hands on the wall, just above shoulder height, and pressed them there softly, making a clear signal that is where they should stay. He placed my feet as well, just wider than hip distance, pushing gently on the tops of my feet to signal they were in their place as well. Still breathing hard, I pushed into the wall for balance, while he tenderly kissed my shoulder as he walked away. All of my attention was caught on the feeling of standing upright after feeling so dizzy, and the care and gentleness in which he helped me into position. All of which belied the strength I know he has, which was what made it so shocking when I felt him suddenly slap me so viciously across the ass.

I cried out, hips bucking forward. I felt him grab my head, growling in my ear that my hands and feet weren't going to fucking move, no matter what he did to me. I felt him yank my panties down past my ass cheeks, and slap me harshly again. I moaned into the wall, my toes curling into the carpet. I would feel a sudden movement behind me and brace for the hit, which wouldn't come. Muscles clamped down, I waited on tenterhooks, and when I began to tire and relax, then the slaps would come again.

Not satisfied with merely slapping at my ass, his range expanded. With my hands pressed into the wall, and my feet a distance away, my body was left unprotected. He used the opportunity to explore me with his mouth, with his teeth. He would kiss me softly, then give a harsh bite. Then he would move as if I were to receive that kiss again, only he would skip the kiss and move straight to teeth clamping down on my delicate skin. He varied his touches - harsh slaps on my ass, my torso, my legs. Kisses and bites on my neck, my ribcage. Grabbing my tits, pinching my nipples, already sore from the treatment he gave them on the ball. My elbows bent and unbent and I dipped closer and further from the wall - trying to move into his abuse and move away at the same time. Knowing what I wanted and what I needed wasn't easy - like forcing myself to stay still against his onslaught. I pushed my forehead against the wall, moaning loudly. He had left my pussy mostly alone, but then he grabbed it harshly, squeezing. As he gripped me, his middle finger slid inside me due to the sheer wetness, rather than intent. I cried out, feeling how sodden I had gotten, how his whole hand practically squelched as he held my mound, all of the pain and pleasure translating into how wet I was getting for him. He pulled my panties down the rest of the way, tossing them aside and pulling me over to the bed.

With shaking legs, I climbed onto and sat on the foam platform he built out of our sex furniture. We took a moment to breathe, to have some water, to check in with each other. After a few moments, he gently placed his hand on my sternum and pushed me down, so that I laid on my back, flat. The angle of the ramp meant that my pussy was actually tilted up, right at him. Not satisfied, he reached under my thighs, pulling me several inches forward, leaving me even more open, more exposed, more vulnerable. He indicated that I needed to place my arms overhead again, hands holding elbows, keeping me from any movement that might limit his use of me.

Satisfied that he had free reign of my body, he began once again with light touches. Running his hands up and down my legs, my torso, my breasts. Softly exploring the fragile skin of my inner thighs. Touching my ass and pussy where it hung off the edge of the ramp, examining my body, deciding what to do next. I whimpered in anticipation, the quiet touch giving sharp contrast to all the pain I had received before.

It didn't take long before he decided that I needed more. His soothing exploration changed, fingers digging in. Tender kisses turned to bites, up and down the sides of my body, the soft undersides of my arms, the creases of my thighs, the sensitive undersides of my breasts. He pulled the hair of my cunt harshly, making me squirm and squeal as he yanked on it. He began attacking my tits again, rolling the tight nipples between his fingers, slapping harshly at them. I moaned, my noises sounding like a cry, sounding scared and hurt, eyes squeezed shut, tears beginning to leak.

I felt his thumb on my face, wiping away my tears, and I jerked away on instinct. He laughed at me, and asked if I wanted to know a secret. I froze briefly, staring at him, then gave a tiny nod. He looked at me and said, "Alright babe, here is the secret... I know that you want this. I know that you need this. In the last couple days, over 4,000 people read how hard you want to get fucked. How hard you NEED to get fucked. That you want to be treated like the total pain slut you are. All of those people read how you consent to this pain, to this treatment. How you fucking wait around just begging to be hurt. And tomorrow when you look in the mirror, and you see the bruises, and you see your tits black and blue, you and I both know, that not only did you consent to this, but that you fucking begged for it so goddamn hard that thousands of people heard you."

Every few words were punctuated with a slap, a pinch, a handful of flesh grabbed and squeezed and twisted. My clit untouched, but my body overwhelmed with the sensation of pain, the knowledge that yes, not only did I want and need this, but that so many people knew that this is what I deserved. For the first time ever, I exploded into orgasm from pain alone. My pussy and clit ignored, but with pain and overwhelming sensation running through my veins, agony pulling me into orgasm like a riptide, deeper and deeper under, unable to breathe through the sensation, just blindly thrashing. He continued working me over, bringing me to orgasm again and again, and I cried out like I was being swept out to sea, begging for my last chance to be saved.

He finally slowed and stopped, leaving me panting, with heaving breaths that shook my ribcage. My brain felt quiet, overcome with the idea that I want to live in those moments. Live in the moments between feeling everything and feeling nothing. That raw physicality of the moment, the clenching of the muscles in buildup, and that moment of release. When there is nothing else, but when there is everything.

I came back into myself, slowing my breathing, coming back up from where I was so far under. I felt him push his hips against me, his dick sliding inside me in swift one motion. He pulled back out almost at once, then told me he needed to show me something. I ungracefully rolled off the furniture stack, and ended up on the floor on my hands and knees. He pulled the waterproof sheet off the stack, and placed it on the floor. He pointed at it, and said, "Sit on that."

I sat down on the sheet, feeling my whole ass immediately get soaked. He asked me if I could feel how wet the sheet was, how much viscous liquid poured out of me. I nodded, and he told me he needed to show me something else. He grabbed my hair, dragging my face closer to his cock. I could see it glistening, shiny in the low light. He fisted his hand tighter in my hair, and forced my mouth down the full length of his shaft. I bucked and gagged, feeling my entire face get saturated where it had pushed up against him. He eased up on his hand, giving me some breathing room although his cock was still deep in my mouth, and said "All of that is from you. I never even touched your clit; I never touched your cunt."

He twisted my head back and forth against his groin, so I could feel he was entirely covered in my juices, from one hip to the other, my fluids dripping down his leg. I breathed hard through my nose, with my tongue and my air drenched in the slightly bitter juice from my cunt. I sucked at his cock, licking myself off him, swallowing my own fluid down. He continued, "You told the whole fucking internet you wanted this, that you begged for this pain, and what a fucking pain slut you are. I didn't realize the depths you wanted me to go, that you would get this wet, that you would cum this hard from pain alone." He pulled me in deeper to his hips, and I sucked his cock in as far as I could, gagging again, eyes watering. He relaxed his grip, pulling his hand down to force my face to look up into his. He sounded almost disbelieving as he told me, "All I have done tonight is hurt you, over and over and over. I haven't given you any pleasure at all, and yet, you fucking soaked everything." I whimpered shakily, feeling trapped in his stare, his hand holding me in place, until he let me go, telling me to clean myself up.

I gave myself a moment, and then stood up on trembling legs, wiped my face, had some water. He moved to the bed, and readjusted the wedge and ramp. I came to the bed, and he told me to lay back down. I noted the setup had changed slightly, and he said "Yeah, because you are such a fucking pain slut, every time I hurt you, instead of you moving away from me, you just pulled yourself harder in. I had to change the setup so it was more stable."

I laid down on the sex furniture stack, calm and quiet. He stroked himself for a few moments, and then slid himself inside me. He fucked me softly, long gentle strokes that felt sweet and comforting. I relaxed, the lack of harsh stimulus feeling almost like a void, like sex in an empty room. Still high, still feeling everything intensely, my cunt finally being touched felt so soft, like petting a kitten. While we fucked, he whispered to me about his desires, his wants, so different than mine, but still part of what makes us who we are as a couple.

Before too long, he came, shuddering, and then rested quietly against me, eyes closed. I gave a deep full sigh of air, and stretched wide, arms overhead, and legs out straight, stretching wide like a tense starfish, and then the sudden drop of all my muscles as I relaxed with a smile. I made a movement as if to get up, only to be startled by a sudden harsh grip on my hip. I glanced at him, then down at his hand, his fingers straining and knuckles white with how tightly he was clenching my body, holding me down. I looked back up into his face, his softness, his gentleness gone as quickly as a switch gets flipped.