Anal, Masochism, and Communication

I’ve discussed my reluctance with masochism previously, but in talking with Intriguing about my most recent brush up with N’s “I don’t care if you don’t want it, you’re getting it” philosophy, I’ve realized that my version of masochism is horribly clear as mud, and I’m damned lucky N’s been around me long enough to understand that when I say no, I’m needing a yes, but asking for the no/yes combo nullifies the no.

I’m not real fond of anal sex, which is why it makes my cunt gush fountains. In the shower last night, N told me to grab the oil bottle. I slumped…there’s only one reason He tells me to grab that bottle, and it’s not a good one. I tried my little girl lost look and said “It’s pretty late…I’m tired. We should go to bed.” He shook His head and pointed at the bottle. “But I’m sore and the water will get cold!” I wheedled. He just pointed again, His face hardening. I huffed a sigh and reluctantly grabbed the bottle, pouring a little into my hand and warming Him up with a hand-job. I tried to use a few of my usual tricks to maybe get Him to want a happy ending with that instead, but He cut me off at the pass and told me to knock it off.

Eventually He’d had enough of my slippery jerking and told me to turn around. The oil was cold as it ran down the crack of my ass, and I complained. He laughed and said that I always say its cold, but He doesn’t quite believe me, and He’ll need more data before He thinks about it.

He pressed Himself into me, and I tried to relax, really. I tried to ignore that I was cold, tired, tense, and wet. It hurt as He forced His way in, and I spent a while working through the pain. Part of it was that the lube wasn’t spreading far enough, but instead of asking for more, I relished the pain. I didn’t want to be the one who needed more lube. I wanted to suffer as long as He was happy; I wanted to hurt as He was feeling pleasure. So He continued to ride my ass as I rode the pain, knowing that my cunt was twitching and dripping, unable to smother my moans and whines as He thrust deeper and deeper.

“Play with your cunt,” He growled in my ear. I whimpered a little, knowing that He loves to feel me getting off with His cock buried deep in my ass. I hate the indignity, the shame, the wanton hussiness it brings out in me. It’s up there in my top ten humiliation activities, which is why He finds it so attractive, I’m sure. Even though I was trying to ignore the heat radiating from my pussy, my hand was sliding down to nestle between my nether-lips, and it wasn’t long before I was begging Him to let me cum. I could feel His breath across the water on my neck, and suddenly the cold of His breath, the pain of His fucking, the knife’s edge of orgasm I was on…it was all too much. I needed the permission, or my clit was just going to explode and fall off…

“Yes!” He growled as He lunged forward, spearing me to the wall and making me cry out as the rush of the orgasm met the sharp sting of His thrust. It was a volatile combination that made my knees melt and my vision blur in the explosion of pleasure and pain.

I stood, head against the wall, breathing heavily as His cum dripped down my leg, mingling with my own juices before washing away in the shower spray. I couldn’t find my breath, or my thoughts, or words to thank Him for ignoring my wants in favor of His own. How could I say thank You for ignoring me? Thank You for not listening to me? Thank You for giving me what I can’t ask for?

I just looked up at Him and smiled weakly. “Thank You,” I muttered.

“Thank you.” He said with a grin.

I know that owning a reluctant masochist has to be hell sometimes, especially if you love them. Sometimes sorting out the “I don’t wanna” from the “I do want to, but can’t say it flat-out” gets to be a bitch. But I’m thankful that not only does N speak my language, He’s willing to put Himself before me. That fulfills me way more than indulging me ever will.

Thank You.

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