On intense pain

Image by the fabulous Stuart F Taylor

When I think about pain, there’s one particular guy who comes into my head. Many of the guys I’ve been with have helped me squirm in delicious agony, but there’s one in particular who hurt me more than any other. Exquisitely.

Everything that happens in this story was heavenly. To this day, I still daydream about it when I’m horny and itching and only some hurting will do.

Softly softly

This guy was only a few years older, but light-years ahead of me in maturity. He had a neat haircut, wore suits, was chivalrous in an old-fashioned way that I’d have found adorable in someone less dominant. He had a calm, detached air – the kind that comes from knowing I’ll do exactly what he says. He treated me as if I was utterly fragile, yet still his to break.

I rang the doorbell, having refused his offer to escort me from the tube station: something about the cold walk to his house helped to focus my mind. He opened the door with a courteous smile, and ushered me inside in a way that his curtain-twitching neighbours would have approved of.

Then he closed the door with a controlled ‘click’.

“Take off your boots.”
I took off my boots.
There was silence – one beat, two beats.
I lined them up neatly next to his own shoes by the door.
Three beats. Four beats.

Then he pounced.
Grabbing me by the hair he pushed my face up against the wall, twisting my neck awkwardly so I was poised in a semi-standing crouch. Makeup smeared against the wallpaper, hands pressed against the wall to hold myself steady.

Keeping my hair firmly gripped in his hand, he used his other hand to grope me – to inspect me. His roughness didn’t outweigh his calm, though. Every movement was carefully measured – squeezing one of my tits, sliding slowly down over my waist and hips, carefully pulling up the hem of my skirt so he could run his fingers against the crotch of my knickers.

“You’re wet.”
“Yes.” I was dreading what was coming next. Please don’t make me say ‘sir’, please don’t make me say ‘sir’, please…
One beat, two beats…
“Yes what?”

A few ‘sirs’ and light slaps later, and he was leading me by the hair into his bedroom. This was essentially what I’d turned up for. It’s all very well being told off in a hallway, but I wanted him to turn his controlling nature to pain.

I’ve never been much of a pain slut – I enjoy being spanked not because I like the feeling of the slaps, but because I love that the guy in question gets off on it: I like that hearing the thwack of belt on skin makes him hard. That I get to feel dirty and bad even as I’m feeling ecstatic.

He didn’t disappoint.

Stripped to the waist, with skirt hiked up around my middle, he pushed me face down on his bed.

“Knickers down.”
I wriggled out of them.
“Hands behind your head.”
Again, I did as I was told.
“Bite down on this.”
He placed a leather strap in my mouth, and I had a nervous three seconds to wonder what he was going to hit me with before he brought a slipper down onto my arse with a solid, painful thump. I twitched, and arched my back slightly for the second blow.

Thud. Ouch. On and on until my eyes watered. Each one in exactly the same place, the stinging heat growing more intense with every stroke. I could feel from the strength and impact that he wasn’t just testing me – he was drawing his arm back and whacking me with full force. Unable to see him, I pictured it in my head – his arm drawn back above his shoulder, hand holding the slipper, face placid and expressionless, then the twitch of a sadistic smile as he whipped it down again. My stomach thumped with arousal.

“Keep your head down,” he said. “Eyes closed.”

I disobeyed him – I wanted to see what he was bringing next. Through semi-open eyelids I watched him stride across the room: no rushing, still oozing calm control. He opened the wardrobe then did one of the hottest things dominant guys can do before a beating: he rolled up his sleeves. At that point I put my head down, revelling in the anticipation of the unknown. I’d told him before I arrived that I wanted him to hit me – hurt me. Push me with pain I didn’t truly like – less thudding and thick slaps, more thin whips and tingling canes. He took me at my word.

The first stroke didn’t hurt for two seconds – I just heard the whish-click as it landed across the top of my thighs. Then the sting came. Red-hot and searing through my skin, cold metal and hot coal and ice and fire and pain.

“Good,” He crooned. “Good-” whip “-girl.” smack.

He used the wire on me a few more times – each time putting a bit more swing into it, bringing it down a bit quicker, harder. I bit down on the strap and let out a muffled cry. He moved around me, no longer standing at the side but directly in front of my face. I could see his dick pushing tight and hard against the crotch of his trousers. I arched my back further and pushed my stinging arse into the air. He leant forward and hit me again – three more times, harder than he had before, until my head was swimming with pain. I dropped the strap from my mouth and groaned.

“Ow.” Once more – whish-click. “OW! Fuck. Please. It hurts too much.”

He dropped the wire and bent forward over me. I felt his hands on my arse, rubbing, kneading, pushing the pain deep into my muscles and away from the raw surface of my skin. His hands were cool, and I wanted him to keep them on me, still and calm, until the pain was over.

But he didn’t.

He stood up, unzipped his trousers, and lifted my head up so he could slide his dick into my mouth. I sucked him, hard, wanting to feel his dick twitch like I’d twitched when he hit me. When his spunk hit the back of my throat it was as warm and welcome as the stinging slaps he’d given me.


  • PSTHS says:

    I always wonder how things like this end. Especially if you didn’t have an orgasm. Do you say thanks then just leave? Do you get tea? Is it a weird atmosphere afterwards? I feel a bit absurd after a wank, I couldn’t imagine what something like this feel like for either person.

    • Fiddy says:

      Don’t worry. I’m sure there is a lot that happened afterwards that involved her bent over and moaning abd drooling as he was sticking his fingers into her mouth while balls deep in her ass. I know that’s what happens when I sank my wife.

      I’m certain she forgot to write it in because she was friggin’ herself cross-eyed remembering. ;)

      • Fiddy says:


        Screw you autocorrect. How are these even words.

      • Girl on the net says:

        Nope – he cooked me dinner, and we chatted. I sucked him off again before I caught the last train home. Usually I end my stories at the best bit. And honestly? Him coming in my mouth was the climax for me.

        To answer the question above: you’re right, awkwardness is always a possibility. I think I’ve been lucky to know guys who are mostly comfortable with the… aftermath, as it were. I’m also aggressively post-spank friendly, so as to try and maintain a nice atmosphere.

        • yetanotherdave says:

          The phrase “aggressively post-spank friendly” just gives me all kinds of delight.

        • Serocco says:

          You’re also aggressively dominant when it doesn’t involve sex, so I’d imagine he knew not to mess with you when you two weren’t horny, right? :P

  • Slut says:

    So, so hot. My cunt twitches every time I read your blogs. I can hardly breathe when I’m reading them, imagining its my arse that burns with white hot pain, my mouth begging for that hard cock. Carry on!

  • Cindy says:

    You are SO right. The pain is not the aphrodisiac. The excitement he derives from the infliction is mind blowing.

    • Rj says:

      In the military, the first woman I slept with when I lost my virginity asked me to spank her before we did anything. It turned me into a bit of a sadist. I treat women like sex toys now, and have been thanked for it.

      • Sarah says:

        Hmm… Well, as a woman who enjoys being treated like a sex toy by my husband, I can tell you I wouldn’t have appreciated it from someone I didn’t know and love as intimately as humanly possible. Being treated like a cum-bin in the moment is one thing, being totally dominated and used, so long as you’re treated like a decent human being afterwards.

        Recently, my husband was using me pretty aggressively and I was loving it but it was getting a bit much. He suddenly stopped, gently pulled me to him and held me while kissing my forehead and stroking my hair – once I’d composed myself, we started again. I can only really get off on being used when I know that this kind of intimacy and respect is beneath the surface. Worth thinking about.

  • Leslie Edwards says:

    I hadn’t seen him in a while so when I walked through the front door I wasn’t sure what might happen. The first thing he did was to pull my jacket down to my elbows, which meant I couldn’t do much with my arms. He then slammed me up against the vestibule wall, lifted my skirt and ripped off my panties. He lifted me up the wall so I was off the ground, spread my legs, fingered my cunt with one hand put his other hand on my throat. He then forced his hard cock in my cunt. He started to thrust in and out, fucking me with a vengeance. He gripped my hair and pulled it hard.

    He said, “Say you want to be fucked hard.” I said it. “Say you want my big hard cock in your cunt.” I said it. “Tell me you want my cum in your cunt.” I said it. He kept fucking me, fucking me and fucking me. He alternated from pulling my hair to denying me breath with his hand on my throat. Finally, after a good twenty minutes of this sexual assault he shot his warm cum in me. He pulled away and let me drop to the floor. I looked up and there he was his cock still erect and glistening with my girl juice on the shaft and dark red cock head,
    some of his cum still oozing from the slit.

    This was with Alan, married (but his wife doesn’t like or allow rough sex) who I fuck from time to time (well, as you can tell, he fucks me) and has a 10 inch, thick cock. Which is why I thoroughly enjoy sex or rough sex with him. And I particularly enjoy surprise sex and on hard surfaces – wall, table, stairs, washing machine, etc.

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