It's Not Good

We're heavy breathing and hot fumbling on the bed and he's hard against me and I know we could fuck again and I would come and he would come and it would be so good, such intense pleasure, everything working like it should and suffusing us both with wonderful sensation and then lying there in warm drifting loving bliss.

So why do I want to make him angry? Why do I push him off me, sit up, casually make another drink, light another cigarette, just to try to make him force me to carry on? Why do I torment him and taunt him, clever nasty carefully-chosen words? Why does seeing his face troubled and twisted up like that make my stomach go hollow?

Our eyes catch each other's; there's a long tremulous moment. Shimmering possibilities. A blur of visions - blood and violence and rape and tears - but we both just sit there, and in the end it's me who cracks and looks down.

It's not good, you know, he says. It's not a game. It's horrible to feel like that. Anger and hatred and violence. I can't just snap out of it.

I know it's not good. It's not like my brain's wired up wrong, I say. Not like that, anyway. It's not that pain feels good. I can tell the difference between pleasure and pain: one hurts and one feels nice.

It's not about the pain as such. It's the structure of thought, the tangled mess of feeling, that I want at moments like this, not a cheery happy mutually-agreed spanking/biting/whipping session. I don't care what he does, as long as he's not ok with it, as long as he hates himself for doing it, and me for making him do it. Hurting me is just an easy way to make that happen.

We are young(ish) and healthy(ish) and there is love and lust and we have time and space and we know how to conjure up sweetness and glowing light. It's all there - it should all be there - it should be enough.

It's just that... when he looks at me like that and his eyes are bluest blue with blackest black tunnels in their centres, and I see the spectres before me, the possibilities, the visions of him grabbing me and slapping me and tearing at my flesh and hating, hating, angry, vicious, hot, cold... the room tilts around me and the world holds its breath.

Yahoo 1: Icing on the Vanilla Cake

[17:45] you've got an interesting twist on sub dom
[17:45] you're very into causing reactions
[17:45] yeah
[17:46] bloody laughter woman was talking about being a reaction top
[17:47] I think i'm more into being made to react, as i'm a bit reserved normally
[17:47] a reaction top, hmm interesting
[17:47] (or unable to react)
[17:47] yeah i definitely want to MAKE them do stuff to me . to provoke
[17:47] funny what you said in that comment about scars
[17:48] when we were staying at D's last weekend, when we were very drunk, B got all upset and emotional about my scars
[17:48] "oh it's so sad you did that to yourself" that kind of crap
[17:49] and i was thinking, imagine getting him to the point where he'd do that to me.. it would go so much against everything he thinks about himself
[17:49] god, that's hot, you bitch
[17:49] ha ha
[17:49] yeah i think so
[17:49] it's also horribly against "safe sane consensual"
[17:49] but that's where it gets interesting
[17:49] otherwise it's just icing on the vanilla cake

Green = Fluence
Purple = Me