Don’t threaten me with a good time.
No, really. Don’t.
It’s not that I don’t like being fucked or beaten. I like both more than I probably should. But tell me it’s going to happen, and I still may let life get in the way. Tired or moody, and I’ll ask to put it off a night or two. After all, even the lazy or depressed nights with my Owner are good nights, better than any I could ever imagine. Promises of good things I will let happen if I can. Having things I like done to me is… well, something I like done to me—but I may not dream about it for more than a few weeks, usually won’t text my best friend to tell her all about it (with exceptions).
But set the toys out I hate the most. Grab me when I really don’t want it. Strike or speak to me in a way that actually makes me angry—and it’s all I’ll come thinking about for months.
That’s all putting it lightly. Yes, I think about the time I curled up crying and wouldn’t touch Him as He uncaringly scrolled through His phone. Yes, I think about the blood on the hotel sheets, the challenge I was set up to fail, the question I was never asked before my speech was taken away. Yes, I think about nearly vomiting from pain in the old office chair and the things He did to make me retch more. Yes. Yes. Darker.
There’s a reason that when I’m not quite wet enough and His cock is hurting me, He simply mentions that very fact. I’m usually soaking and pliable in seconds. But I have to really have not been wanting it. It doesn’t work if I’m playing a role.
That’s the inherent problem in the way I do CNC: how do you say you want something without ruining it by wanting it? Not overall, that’s not what I mean—it’s more than possible to discuss this in long-term negotiations and still have days where you don’t want it enough for this to work. But in the short-term, when it’s what I want soon, *soon*. What are the options?
How I ask to not want it is the same reason we can do this at all: my unstoppable need to announce everything I’m feeling. My training to try to tell the truth.
I let my fantasies about the moments I have been most afraid of Him happen out loud, tell Him how momentous and ominous the strikes to the box that my head was in felt. I find opportunities to state my aversions out loud: electricity is the reason I couldn’t do this event. Being made to eat disgusting things is what might really make me quit. I describe my horrid nightmares and shudder openly at tortures in films. I send or say the kinds of words described in this universally applicable guide that’s actually about no-safeword tickling which should be required reading for anyone who plays like us, and then I trust I’ve let Him see enough of me to make it possible:
I’m not looking for a “yes, it’s ok to tickle me if I cry.” I’m looking for “hell yes, I want to be sobbing and I want you to keep going. Please don’t stop. If anything, go harder. Wreck me.” -@wren_
And because I also announce all the days I need my sleep, or when my joints are fighting the weather, or if I’m running errands or seeing my mother, my Owner knows both how to use my honesty and when not to.
I knew I wanted to write this, didn’t know if it should be poetic or a guide. But for me, there’s nothing more poetic than being known well enough to be made to suffer. So why shouldn’t it be both? Besides, I can’t really write a guide—because the answer is, “I don’t entirely know.” I’ve just found a few ways to dance this dance. I know what I do to try.
I voice the fantasies. I react fully. I show it all and say it all. When He says, “Are you too tired to be fucked?” I smile, and then I mean it when I say “yes.” I show Him pictures of things that make me cringe. I shop for the toys I’d rather run from. I tell Him what I can’t stop thinking about.
I put up writings like this one.