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Archive for the ‘crying’ Category

tears of joy?

Posted by Týr on January 9, 2009

Shortly after waking up a few days ago, I asked Maja to hurt me. I don’t know why, but I had been craving to be punched for a few days. Luckily, she decided to punch me. I don’t really know how I went from enjoying punching to enjoying being punched, but I have taken quite the liking to the occasional beat-down. I suppose I could explore this, but not now.

I don’t quite remember what inspired both of us to play heavier than we usually do, but we did. Maja pushed my limits, and I responded by asking for more. When she hit me even harder, I asked for more still. Blow after blow landed, always on flesh that was already bruised. At times I moved my hands over chest to give myself a small reprieve. “Move those hands out of my way!” And each time I’d move my hands and grab a hold of our headboard so I could last a few more blows before I gave myself refuge again. And each time I looked forward to more beating. And each time I was dreading the pain. This is how it continued for some time: blow by blow, more and more pain, me covering myself, her ordering my hands away, me gladly, reluctantly, gladly complying, impact upon impact, until finally I said “yellow*.”

Maja gently tumbled next to me onto the bed and gathered me into her arms, while I gathered myself a tiny bit, getting my breathing a bit regular again, enjoying the dull ache on its own, without any other impacts, feeling my chest be sore when I inhaled, letting that feeling become a more regular, noticed feature of living. After about a minute, Maja looked up at me and asked me if I could go on. I nodded as eagerly as someone so conflicted only can. As she climbed back up, straddling me, I looked up at her and asked her to make me cry. A wicked gleam shot through her eye. She asked me “Are you sure you want this? Because I won’t let up until you safeword or you’re crying. No backing out.” Realizing that she was serious, I gulped and smiled. “Yes, I’m sure.” I wanted her to have my tears, which she’s wanted from me for so long.

So I moved my hands back to headboard, grabbing hold so I could once again put off protecting myself. She began by punching my chest again. This really hurt, and while I cringed and winced like never before, I wasn’t getting close to tears. Maja noticed this, and decide to switch tactics. The sides of my rib cages exploded in pain as her hands came down hard and fast, slapping my sides again and again. My tears were almost there, but that alone couldn’t quite get them out, no matter how hard she slapped them, no matter how often she slapped me again and again. Finally, she decides that she is going to dig her fingers into my newly tenderized sides. Each finger, distinctly, yet in one giant clump, try to burrow through my ribs, nail-first. This is too much, and I start bawling. Having gotten what she wants, Maja redoubles her efforts, trying new spots to dig in, pressing harder. I sob, having trouble getting myself together enough to say “red**”, my senses informing me only of the attack on my rib cage and, like some forgotten attention-hungry kid, the recent pummelling of my chest. Finally, I gather my wits enough to blurt out “red” before rolling over into the fetal position, big huge sobs erupting between my tears.

My first instinct is to curl up in a ball, inside myself, try to get distance, find a safe place. But I realize that I had asked her for this. From her. If I hadn’t mentioned it, the thought of making me cry would never have crossed her mind (well, at least at the time). So I realize that I have to give myself to her so that I can be put back together. After 20 seconds of sobbing I force myself to turn around again and find the nearest crook of Maja’s neck to just live there, in her arms for a bit. The arms that love me. The arms that beat me. Because they love me. But fuck, they made me cry!

My breathing calms down as Maja comforts me in words that register as speaking, but they have no meaning. The words wash over me, but I only register the soft, affectionate tones of voice. She takes her hand, gently lifts up on my chin, and kisses me. I feel like I threw my arms around her right then, because that seems like the kind of thing I’d do, but I honestly have no idea.

 The morning didn’t end there, though the inflicting of pain did. Throughout the rest of the day, and every now and then for the past few days, I’ve been conflicted about that scene. Actually, about the crying part only. The rest of it was really hot. The punching, the stern tone when I’d cover myself, forcing my arms to stay out, making me vulnerable, all that I’d want to do right now if I could. But something about the crying bothers me. I am normally fairly controlled in my emotions, and I suppose that letting myself be forced to cry (which is really what that was) just isn’t my thing. I don’t know why this is, really; I just like keeping my composure. Sobbing, to me, is most definitely not that. But I’ll gladly take everything else, before and after the crying.

And because Maja is the one who made me cry, I’ve been resenting her a tiny bit, even though that is retarded. I mean I did ask for it. I knew it would make her happy, because omg has she talked about wanting me to cry. Still, if I could have the rest of that scene but not the tears, I would be much happier. See, looking back on this scene I quite enjoyed it, even the crying. However, the crying bothered me, both then and now. Do I want to try it out again? Be made to bawl again? Maybe. I’m not averse to it, even though I really didn’t like it. I know that Maja did though.

But is that enough to make up for it? How much should I be willing to do something I don’t enjoy for her sake? And I don’t mean “not enjoy” the way some enjoy being single-tailed. I mean legitimately not enjoy. Didn’t like it. Yet I’d do it again.

Why is that? Am I looking to make Maja happy? Am I looking to lose that control in a controlled environment? Is this my body’s way of telling me I have too much sodium in my diet? That’s really the part that’s confusing me right now: why do I want to do this again when every part of me is telling me to recoil and run away. Do I want to do this again? I feel like each half of my mind is controlled by opposing forces. I’ll probably go down this path one more time, slipping and sliding on my tears as I go.

So go ahead, make me cry, but don’t you dare touch me.

 

* “yellow” = don’t end the scene entirely, but stop hitting me for now

** “red” = the scene is entirely done. no more.

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Posted in crying, emotions, fear, intimacy, kink, pain, punching, relationships, sexuality | 6 Comments »