A Pain Exploration Story

"Did you think this is over? This isn't fucking over, babe. We aren't done here," he intoned. I almost stammered, wondering how much more I could take, feeling the soreness of what he had already done to me settling in. He laughed, saying that he knew I was desperate for something in my cunt, for the fisting that has been so far denied to me. I gaped at him, shocked he wasn't exhausted yet, that he was willing to take me as far as I wanted to go.

He began kneading my legs again, digging his fingers into my muscles, slapping hard at my legs, my torso, my breasts. I began whining and gasping, my body undulating from the sudden change. To go from relaxed and soft to this - this bright pain - so suddenly felt like a shock of ice water on a hot day. My muscles tensed against themselves, and he laughed and said "Come on bitch, beg me. Beg me to fuck you the way that you need it, beg me to hurt you. Beg me for all this stimulation that you want, that you need. I know you, and I know too much is never enough. So, let's hear you fucking beg for it."

Without another option, I began begging. Begging for his hand inside me, begging for him to touch my clit, begging for him to hurt me. Coherent sentences devolving into just pleading, 'please, please, please.' My body ready for him, he fingered me roughly, not needing much time to go from one finger to five inside me. He told me he was inspired by the story I wrote about us fucking on the spiked mat, how now he understands that he can really try to hurt me, that he doesn't need to hold back. All of the filthy things I always longed to hear, but by then I could barely hear him over the sound of my own voice, begging for him to fuck me, to hurt me, to let me cum.

My muscles clamped and tensed, and he squeezed my thigh again, his thumb digging into a deep trigger point. My leg seized and cramped, charley-horsing with visible spasms as he tightened his grip. I held my hands up in a panic and he backed off, as I rubbed frantically at my aching leg. The cramp began to subside and he asked if I was okay. I told him that I was okay, but it really hurt, and that... Suddenly he got a cold glint in his eye. We both realized at the same time that I had talked, but hadn't actually used my safeword to tell him to stop. I froze and he laughed then and said, "You know, it occurs to me that I don't really care how you feel. And I don't actually care if this hurts you more than you want. The only thing you are going to do right now, is shut the fuck up and take it."

With that, he placed his hand back in the same position on my leg as before, and squeezed. I screamed in pain, in pleasure as he jammed his hand back inside me, pistoning his arm, twisting inside me. He fucked me with his hand, for force of his arm, his body, all his energy pouring into this. He fucked me as hard as he could, as my body roiled with the force of orgasm after orgasm, until we were drained.

Afterwards, we relaxed for a few moments, then he got up, dripping from where I came on him, liquid drenching his arm, the side of his torso. He stood, stretched, and walked out, telling me it was my job to clean up the mess. I laughed, then lay quietly for a few moments. Then I jumped up, ran over to my toy chest, and pulled out my wand vibrator, and lay back down for another orgasm. Right as I was cumming, he opened the door again, saw me, shook his head unsurprised, and left. Too much is just never enough.

We cleaned ourselves up, and then hung out quietly for what was left of the evening. Eventually he went to bed, but I needed some more time to myself, to consider what had happened. To imagine what this meant for us, for him to be willing to hurt me the way I wanted to be hurt. To fantasize over how far we could take this, how far we could go. The more I thought about what the night had meant, the more I wanted it. I felt myself getting more and more excited and turned on, and more and more ready.

I thought about the first story I wrote, how he fucked me on the mat made of spikes, and how he seemed to be more willing to slap me, to hit me now. I pulled the spiked mat out again, and gingerly laid on top of it. Not my back on the mat, as before, as intended, but rather face down. First, turned sideways so it fit just on my stomach, and then turned so it was under my breasts. Pushing my tits into the spikes, I imagined what it would feel like to be spanked like this, every slap of my ass pushing the spikes into my breasts, my nipples. Every delicate part of my body shimmering with sharp, bright hurt. I panted in pain, in excitement, rubbing myself to orgasm once again.

Even too much is just never, ever, enough.