Unedited Scene from Subfrenzy

: Where the fuck did this come from? My masochist running rampant, maybe? Ugh. Bad, I think, unless I can make the writing have it seem not so bad? ... I want pain. Do I want this? Do I not want this? Is my masochist starving for the intensity of pain, the rush of momentarily uncontrolled dominance? Only from him... and it's not happened. Not like this. Probably for good reason... Ugh!

SCENE:

        I was lost to the way he kissed me. Leaning against him, my legs tangled between his, I went still when he grabbed my chin. My eyes met his for the briefest of seconds. I saw his hand rise and immediately closed them, bracing for the pain that would follow. Submission kept the shock contained. It more than stung when the flat of his hand fell over my cheek. The second made my head fly to the side. I exhaled sharply, barely holding the growl of anger back. His hands grasped my hair so he could kiss me hard. But before my nerves settled back into submission, he tested the limits and smacked me again. I heard it, echoing and loud in my head, before pain throbbed high in my cheekbone. My face was flushed red, tingling and burning where his fingers hit hardest. When my knees buckled, he jerked me back into his body. A fourth, white light exploding behind my eyes, brought long strands of my hair forward to cover the side of my face. Definitely off-balance, I didn't hold back the almost-silent snarl of surprise.

       "What?" He jerked my head back, having me stand straight. "Did you just-"

      “No, Master!” I winced, immediately sorry for saying 'no' to him, while still trying to piece together what had happened. 

       'No' should have been, 'Yes?' I couldn't remember what had happened when I lost those few seconds. 

       “I'm sorry, please-”

       He laughed shortly, the sound dark with the promise of punishment. The fight-or-flight reaction eased and cleared the haze that settled over my mind. I didn't flinch when he quickly raised his hand. My eyes widened when I saw the back of his hand. I felt my lips part, my mouth slightly opening from shock. All of my reactions were slowed. I saw his amber colored eyes darken, then the blur before pain would burn from contact... but he didn't backhand me. Or hit me at all. My eyes hadn't closed, shock still holding me steady in spite of what he'd threatened.

        “Good,” he said, still staring at me. “There's no reason for me to punish you, then.”

        “Thank you, Master?” I replied, my lips feeling numb.

        He kissed both sides of my face. “I would never do that to you. You know that.”

        Apparently my body did. I replied with submissive warmth in my voice, “Thank you, Master.”

        Shock faded and left me with the rush edge-play usually brought. Fear, check. Surprise, check. Being lost to the 'unknown,' check.

        “- dangerous,” I heard the last part of what he said. “You don't really want that, do you?”

        I shook my head. “Not that, Master, but, um--”

        'No,' my submissive said over and over in my head, dismissing the images that rose. Of blood congealing, dripping slowly down my back. Knives and blood, whips that would slice through layers of my skin, canes that could draw welts. Eight tales of knotted pleasure. 'No, no, no. Bad. Unhealthy.' But I was nearly panting from desire, close to asking for all the things I'd seen so vividly in my imagination. I thought of screams that escaped when it felt like I had no breath left in my lungs. Being gagged so no one would hear. Of being brought past the limits I had for pain, brought to the silence and deep levels of subspace that came after sincerely pleading to have it stop, or for more... All the while fighting to keep my safe-word back, endurance stretching until it snapped.

        I hadn't answered fast enough. And he saw the partially guilty glint in my eyes, the fear that meant I didn't have an answer... and I didn't want to lie. My arms came forward, slamming against the wall as he swung me around. I bit my lip to keep from laughing when his arm closed over my neck. My head fell back on his shoulder. His arm tightened, cutting off air-flow. He let me breathe when I squirmed against him, my lungs constricting desperately. Air! Yes! It tasted so- Then his hand closed over the base of my throat. He applied pressure, easing slightly to let me breathe shallowly. I felt light-headed, then dizzy. He let me gasp deep lungfuls of oxygen before bringing me close to unconsciousness again.

        “Please-” I choked, nearly falling to my knees.

        He had me turn so that I faced him. I melted, barely finding the strength to raise my arms to his shoulders. We stayed that way until my body stopped shaking. He massaged warmth back into my hands and arms.

        “Mmm... Master,” I said, meaning to say' Thank you,” as I breathed him in.

        “Can you stand?”

        “Yes, Master.”

        I laughed, mentally drifting into the position as he had me brace my arms against the wall again. The roughness kept me in partial-subspace, not letting it take over because I needed to stay standing. Already relaxing into the position, I knew he wouldn't have let my head hit the plaster. I brought my hands together so they touched, holding them flat against the off-white wall. He pulled my hips back so that I bent over. I braced with my hands and the inside of my arms.

        “This is punishment from before,” he warned me briefly.

        He stood next to me, the flat of his hand falling rapidly over the side of my ass. The crawling, stinging pain made me wet. I moaned when he made me shake, the smacks hurting harder than I remembered. Short, hard smacks for the left side. They fell randomly, my body loving the ones that made my teeth grit. There was no way to tell how long it continued. Until my skin burned red from above my knees to below my neck.

        “I'm sorry, Master!” I yelped as the last smack fell.

        My head hung between my arms. I had brought my shoulders together, bracing against the wall. He kissed the side of my neck, wrapping my hair around his hand to pull my head back. “This pain you take for me.”

        I moaned and writhed my hips back against his. “Please, yes. Thank you, Master.”

        Sub-space pulled me under when I heard the sounds of his belt being undone. Fuck, yes. My nerves crawled with restlessness and impatience. “Wait,” I heard him say, dread pooling in my stomach. “Come over here. Bend over the back of this couch.”

        He stood in front of the single sofa. I quickly got to my knees, abandoning pride as I crawled over to him. “Thank you, Master.” Stopping when I was in front of him, I kissed his knee, then his inner thigh. He was pleased, his hand tangling in my hair for a moment. My pain threshold expanded, wondering if he had me move because it enabled me to relax into the darkness in my head. I kept my eyes lowered, standing so I could do what he said. Hands palms on the seat, spread shoulder width apart, I waited for the bright flashes of pain.

        The belt struck his couch a few times. It flew through the air, it's end striking loud enough to make fear rise. He laughed when I jumped, hearing the crack of leather hitting leather. But arousal burned, my body completely relaxing for whatever level of pain he wanted me to take first. I strained to stay still as the first hit fell, striking diagonally over the back of my left thigh. It hurt more than I expected, yet not enough for me to break position. The second was brought straight down, swung around to hit both sides of my ass, then again. Trails of stinging pain coursed upward, downward, deep down to the core of my body. I turned my hands over, pressing my palms against the cushions to stop myself from moving. He made me gasp and moan, holding my breath through the quick, harsh flicks of the belt. Pain blossomed, gathering together as it steadily coursed over my skin. I fought it for as long as I could, shivering and shuddering as I struggled to absorb it.

        “Master, please!”

        “You want me to stop already?”

        Determination took me back under. “I'm sorry, Master. Please, no.”

        “If you want me to stop, you know what to say.”

        'Red,' yes. But please, not yet... I counted until the numbers jumbled, hits falling that I forgot to calculate in my haste to keep track of more. My hands were pulling backward on the couch. I felt my shoulders pulling together, my body wanting to protect itself against the pain that rose dangerously high. The belt snapped over my inner thigh. My back arched, hips twisting as I forced myself back into position. I felt him move back a few steps. The end whistled forward. I cried out as it struck both sides of my ass. Defensive walls in my mind fell as I lost small submissive battles. Not moving my hands, for one. Or closing in around myself, trying to make myself a smaller target. Failed. When I got to one elbow, forced to hesitate though I wanted to get back into position... He sighed, roughly pulling my arm down.

        “I'm sorry! Please, Master-”

        “What are you asking for?”

        I went silent, remembering what he said about safe-wording. The hits fell harder, as though insisting I say it. When I lowered my head, pressing my lips against the side of my arm, he pulled my head back.

        “Well?”

        Pride won, repaving the cracks in my pain threshold. I shook my head, signifying that I had nothing to say. His eyes narrowed. That wasn't enough for him. “Master...” my voice wavered, “please may I have- um-” I couldn't ask for more. Something shivered through me, my confidence faltering because of the dangerous way his eyes darkened.

        “Yes?”

        I shook my head again, helplessly. There was a barrier that kept me from asking him to stop, yet I couldn't bring myself to ask for it to continue, either. Not when I wasn't sure if I could take it. I wanted it to, even felt I could...

        “It ends when I want it to end,” he decided for me.

        … but when I had a choice, I couldn't take as much. “Thank you, Master!” I absorbed the urge to writhe backwards, forwards, anything so long as the stinging was eased from the back of my legs. My eyes closed as I breathed carefully. Pain was increasingly registered as intense pleasure. All I had to do was stay still and the pleasure would burn higher and take me under. 

        I let it creep through my body, the bright flashes exploding behind my eyelids giving me something to focus on. Subspace, I felt it and threw myself into the darkness. Warm, comforting, the place where sanity was restored. Shields grew stronger because they weren't being used. Walls were repaired, shutting out the worst of the pain. I could feel myself laying still, my body tensing and relaxing, tensing again before I made myself relax. Submissive instinct kept me from having to pay much attention to my position. I'd stay because he wanted me to, no other levels of determination needing to be accessed.

        “Ten more. Count them.”

        I did, nearly screaming the last four. My nails dug into the couch as I fought waves of dizziness from the last one. I whimpered when my body moved on its own. He looked surprised to see me suddenly kneeling in front of him. My body ached from holding position, but I liked the way it felt. I let my lips follow the hard line of his cock through the soft fabric of his pants. Blinded by submission, all I wanted was to thank him and give him pleasure. 'So do both,' I listened to my submissive. 'And make it good,' my masochist fueled me with endurance.