(I’m on a roll here! Must be the sun.)
When I met the women, who are also suffering from infertility, the subject of sex came up. Everyone noted, how they hated doing it, didn’t feel like it, how their husbands or boyfriends had commented, how they’d like their spouses back. And while I nodded and agreed, because honestly, it hasn’t really been a piece of cake for us either, I realized something. When one of the women said that her husband had thrown in the towel, when she just lay there and said do something, I recogniced the situation. But with us it ended up in negotiation. We established that we’d need to fuck – he’d need to come that is – and that I was perhaps not in the best place to play. So, we deciced to make that into the play.
Why won’t you just rape me? Just use me.
This is exactly what I did this Thursday too. When Wonderboy put his cock in me, it just hurt. I couldn’t make the pain into anything, I couldn’t use it to feel used or his slave. It was just too pure, the discomfort. He wasn’t actually hurting me, but my insides were so different, dry and unreceptive, that I didn’t enjoy at all.
He stopped after a while, after flipping me over and fucking me from behind, which didn’t help either.
Something’s not right. This doesn’t feel right somehow, he said.
I cuddled with him and it took a little while for me to be able to just say the words. But I did.
I wanted to be up for it, I really did. I just didn’t. It just felt uncomfortable, and it hurt a bit. There were nice bits too. Just. Not as much as normally. I think it’s the hormones.
I think that maybe you should be more rough. Hurt me more. I think that would help, since I can’t feel that much down there right now.
Wonderboy looked serious. He didn’t say anything, but I could see he was processing. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt me today? Maybe he didn’t want to be rough with me being so fragile all of a sudden.
But you don’t have to. I just might help, I kept mumbling, when he seemed to make up his own.
Okay. Why don’t you go on down and lick me a little, he asked, but it wasn’t a question.
I did and I don’t know. Something happened when I was down there. I…
Does it happen to you that sometimes, when you’re obeying your master’s or top’s orders you just go limp? Like, I was still there, in my mind I was questioning what was happening. I had a thousand analyzes and a thousand hypothesisis about it even while feeling it. But. My head just lulled. My hand just stopped moving. Wonderboy took me by the scruff of the neck and held my head, pushed it against his cock. My eyes fluttered, it was almost impossible to keep them open. I did actively keep my mouth open for his cock, not to hurt it, but it seemed like all other control over my body had disappeared.
He pushed my head deep down and kept it there, kept me by the hair, so strong he was. And then I’d choke and cough slime over him and on the mattress and my head would fall down on the mattress and he’d let me breath in a little, cough a little slime out and then pick me back up and push me back in. I could feel his cock growing, his sense of owning me, totally, my vulnerable state penetrating him with responsibility and opportunity to do as he will. I would start gagging, but not move, not breath, not make a sound. Just gag and gag until he’d let my head go, let me cough and throw up the precum and saliva that had clogged my throat.
It was… It was perfect.
This might sound weird, but I was so let alone. I was let to have my own experience, my private fantasy experience. I’ve never had that. Not together. Not like this. There was nothing I was actually able to do for him. I was in no way trying or even able to take him into consideration. I was just pure need. I wanted for him to suffocate me with his cock. When I’d gagged many times, he did what any considerate lover would do. He wouldn’t push my head so deep anymore. He’d let me breath more. But I didn’t want to breath. I didn’ want to be treated nicely, gently. I wanted to be suffocated, used, completely at his mercy, at the mercy of his hands and his perceptiveness. I pushed my face down a little, of my own will, and he’d steel up, he’d change with me, become my owner and my master. Because I was so far gone. I couldn’t control my body, hold me head high or move my hands. But I was his fucktoy. I was all he needed. And he was all I needed.
He soon flipped me over, but it was harded than usual, because I didn’t help. My body was at his mercy and he had to work to get it flip over nicely, the way he wanted. He fucked me, then, and told things to me and held my head. He’d hold my hands by the wrists so tight it hurt and he’d fuck me so hard it hurt. He wouldn’t let me… not even a little. He was there.
Don’t you whine, whore.
And I was so out of my mind. I faught him a little, seriously, I tried, I really tried. I never do. And I couldn’t get out from under him. He just looked at me, spit on my face.
You’re nothing. I’m just gonna use you. I can do anything I want to you. You’re mine.
I answered some things, I think. And then I came. And then he fucked me harder. And then he slapped me and hurt me and twisted me by the hair. And he came so hard and I came with him, again.
After it was over, I whimpered. He pulled me against him and I just whimpered and shivered, kept gasping for air. It wouldn’t die down. I tried to caress his back a little, look up to him and smile to tell him what I was feeling. But he knew. I could hear his gentle and loving aaaaw baby, when I trembled again and let out a whine. He finally pulled me up to him, put my head on a pillow next to his and hugged me. And then he said, I’m just going to go to sleep.
And I said, won’t you brush your teeth first? but you almost couldn’t hear the words, they came from a different mouth, hoarse and carried by the wind.
I’m too tired for that, he said.
A sudden fear grabbed my heart. Was he falling asleep already, leaving me alone like this?
I’m not ready yet, I said and he hugged my tighter to show me he was there. He held me until I felt I could move, and then I rose to my feet, brushed my teeth… and spent the next 4 hours trying to sleep, but being too… something to do so.
I thought about this today, when I thought about how the other ladies talked about sex. And I realized, how hard it would be, if there was nothing new to discover. No catharsis to experience. No negotiation skills long ago learned and honed. Because there was a pause here, one that would’ve ended differently before. Something’s not right. But I could tell him what I needed this time. I could ask for it, but not expect it. I could say it without blaming him or taking blame myself that there needed to be a pause. And he could hear it and do it his way. Mold it into what he wanted to do.
They don’t have that. They only have the infertility, the seriousness, the treatments and the calender. The have no play in which to fall.
My therapist asked me: Where do you get your power?
And I think. Here.