I need to cry.
I need to cry.
Not because I’m frustrated, or angry, or hurt, or sad, or scared. I mean, I’m sure those things will have their place when the torrent finally comes. But that’s not the kind of cry I’m talking about.
I need to scream.
I need to beg.
Even during that scene I’m always talking about where I felt like I had just dropped three hits of ecstasy when M was finished, I managed to keep from begging. But that might have been the whole being gagged thing.
I won’t admit to it. Won’t ask for it.
I whine about wanting to get fucked. I hint at wanting to be hurt. Giggle nervously when M growls at me that He’s going to. But that’s as far as I go. Beyond that, I try to act indifferent. As if my excitement will definitely make it happen, and I think I won’t be able to handle it.
And then…
When He hurts me I get mad.
I glare and grumble and growl and grump. I make comments about how He’s doing it wrong, or how that’s not the kind of hurt I was talking about, or…
And both of us know that’s the biggest indicator that I need it.
That… and the fact that I stoically take whatever He gives me, now, with a scrunched up face, and a lot of heavy breathing, but only the slightest wetness at my eyes, and hardly a whimper. I fight the tears as if they’re Satan nipping at my heels. As if crying somehow makes me “less than”.
We need a house with a basement. A single-occupant house with a basement.
Oh god. That thought both thrills and terrifies me.
Yeah… I need to cry.
<3
To M: Okay, so I lied. Getting beat and fucked did make my mind go in a million directions. Maybe you should beat me for lying. ~nods~