I don’t like pain. I don’t like the sensation. I just don’t get any of pleasure from it. None at all, I never have, and I’ve certainly never felt like a masochist in terms of being turned on by physical pain.
I’ve never felt that need to for pain; I’ve heard others talk about it and it just doesn’t resonate with me at all.
Yet, I do crave being hurt. Sometimes I can think of little else.
I crave the distress and vulnerability that comes along with being in pain.
I don’t like the pain, but I like to be beaten.
Sometimes I just crave the feeling of having someone grab my throat and slam me into a wall. To be thrown around the room until I find myself crawling into the corner, trying to protect myself from the blows and praying that the ground will open up and save me.
There’s something overwhelming about the brute force that’s required to physically overpower me; the manhandling, the struggling, and most of all.. The surrender.
When that realisation kicks in.. the part where I finally realise that no matter what I do, no matter how hard I fight, cry, scream or beg.. I’ve lost. That little moment where my heart sinks, my eyes close and all I want to do is cry. That’s it right there.
In that moment something inside my core breaks, and I feel the wind taken out of my sails. My fight or flight instincts are gone; and all that’s left is for me to accept my fate. I know I’ve lost this battle, but it won’t stop be from pleading and begging.
“Please don’t hurt me”
“Please, I’m sorry”
“I’ll do anything else, please..”
But please – whatever you do – don’t stop now.