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This short story was written for a painslut I know. My only relationship with her is that of friendship. She had been a "technical advisor" for several of my stories. In that context, I have occasionally spoken with her about the strange ways in which a painslut's mind and body work. In one of those sessions, she described her need to be "broken once in a while in order to stay sane." That discussion led to this story. Although the story itself is purely fictional, I showed it to her and she said it could have been her story. "Except," she added, "my Kevin is named Karen."
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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2013 by The Technician [email protected].
Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
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Kevin McCallister sat in his office waiting for the printer to spit out the final proposal papers he needed for his meeting with a client. The sale was already made. The deal was done. All that was needed was a signature on the proposal contract. This was going to be a really good month.
"Bing!" His thoughts of bonuses and "Salesperson of the Month" were interrupted by the sound of an incoming text. He glanced at the screen of his smart phone. It was from Becky. The message was very short... only two words, "Break me!"
His response was even shorter, "Clarify."
Becky replied in a series of additional two word texts, "Whip me" "Spank me" "Beat me" "No limits"
Again, Kevin's response was one word, "When?"
"Now!"
At that point, his secretary came into his office with several folders and he rapidly texted, "U hav 2 w8" then a second text, "Mportnt mtg. Big $ contract. Wll b hm aftr"
Becky texted back, "I will be here waiting, but won't be able to answer or text."
"I'll be tied up. ;-)"
Kevin's text reply was totally symbolic, " :-) 8 = = = = = = = > (!) (-: "
Becky's reply was also symbolic, " :-O / (.) X (!) "
He texted back "C U Soon" and put away his phone so that he could deal with his secretary's questions.
After she left, he sat drumming his fingers on the desk as he waited for the printer to collate, fold, and staple five copies of the lengthy proposal. His lips were pursed together and his brow was furrowed as he tried to figure out exactly what Becky was up to. She wanted pain - a lot of it; that was obvious. And for Becky, pain usually led to fantastic sex, but her text indicated that she wanted him only in her mouth or in her ass, not her cunt.
Becky asking for anal is what really had Kevin wondering. Becky normally objected to anal sex, and only did it once in a while as a gift to him. She called it "pain sex" and said there was no pleasure in it for her. She said it didn't really hurt, but it didn't feel good either. For her it was "pain sex" or "no pleasure sex."
It wasn't that she didn't enjoy sex. She greatly enjoyed regular put-your-prick-in-my-pussy sex. She called vaginal intercourse "pleasure sex," regardless of what position they were in when he entered her. Kevin wasn't sure what she called oral sex because she didn't really consider that sex. It was more like foreplay to her - even if it went all the way to climax for either of them.
Now she was asking for pain and for pain sex. Something was definitely going on with Becky. Actually, something had been going on with her for several weeks. She had been growing more distant and responded almost coldly to his usual attempts to get her in the mood. About the only thing that seemed to turn her on anymore was pain, pain and more pain.
Kevin was worried. Anything short of this contract and he would have cancelled all the rest of his appointments for the day and gone home immediately, but this was too important. He couldn't even rush through the final presentation of the contract at the client's place so that he could get home earlier. Too much was riding on this sale for himself and for the company. So, it was a long three hours later, when Kevin, breathing a big sigh of relief, was finally able to drop off signed copies of the contract with his company's records clerk. Now he could go home and take care of Becky.
When he got there, everything was dark. All of the blinds were pulled shut and no lights were on. He slowly made his way to the bedroom. There he found Becky tied face down on the bed. In the dim light of three "electric candles" he could see that her ankles were tied securely to the bottom corners of the bed frame and her wrists were trapped in special slip knots on ropes that looped through their massive headboard. As he approached, he could see that the slip knots were a special tie that Becky had once shown him. It was normally used for self-bondage because it would only tighten to a certain point to prevent injury, but still the person could not undo them by themselves.
She was lying totally quiet without movement. She may or may not have heard him enter the room. There were three or four pillows under her hips so that her ass was thrust high up into the air. Her head was resting on another pillow. She was wearing a thick leather blindfold and had a bright red ball gag in her mouth. Drool wet the pillow slightly beneath her face. Standing beside her, Kevin could see what looked like soft wax sealing her ears. She had obviously put herself in this isolation restraint, and just as obviously had probably been held in place like this, cut off from movement, sound and light, since shortly after texting him four hours before.
He slipped out of his clothing and approached the bed. Then he released the strap on the ball gag so that he could remove it from her mouth. She jumped slightly as he touched her. It was probably her first indication that he was in the room. "I need you to say what you want," he said loudly, almost shouting into her sealed ears.
Her words were the same as her text. "Break me."
His answer also mirrored his text, "Clarify."
"Whip me."
"Spank me."
"Beat me."
"No limits."
Kevin then said, "Verify," and Becky responded with "Chicago."
"Chicago" was her safe word. Most people think of safe words only as something that brings everything to a stop when things get too intense for the sub, but a safe word is also very useful in those cases where you have to be sure that what the sub is asking for is actually what they are asking for.
The reason for a safe word is to clearly mark something as stepping outside the role or the scene. Subs often say things that are part of the role, and a top has to know when they are in role and when they are seriously giving information or requests. Otherwise, a top may actually do what a sub asks as part of their fantasy and beat their ass until it is bloody hamburger when the sub was merely setting the scene in their mind with their words, and was really asking for, or expecting, just an intense spanking or beating.
Kevin replaced the ball gag and checked out the implements that Becky had placed on the dresser next to the bed. There was a paddle, a wide leather belt, and a strange looking whip that looked somewhat like a rubber tawse. Small cards were along side each of them that were numbered 1, 2, & 3.
Becky was a sub, but she knew what she wanted. She didn't quite top from below, but there was definitely nothing non-consensual about their relationship. Becky wanted Kevin to do something specific to her in a specific order that would take her well beyond her normal limits. As he picked up the large wooden paddle, Kevin wished he knew for sure what it was... and why... and for what purpose.
He turned and slammed the paddle down on Becky's upturned ass. It made a resounding "thwack" and left a bright red slash across both ass cheeks. Thwack, thwack, thwack, he continued until her entire ass was bright red. Becky was pushing her face into the bed and grunting in pain, but at the same time she was raising her ass up against the paddle. Kevin could see moisture forming between her legs. She was obviously moving rapidly into pain-pleasure.
After about 50 swats, Becky's ass was swollen and starting to show purple areas in the bright red. Kevin put the paddle back on the dresser and picked up the wide leather belt. It was black, and highly polished on one side. The crack of the belt hitting Becky's thighs was much sharper than the dull thwack of the wooden paddle. Becky began breathing heavily and arching her back to raise her ass up even higher. She was thrusting as if she were meeting the strokes of a lover rather than the swing of a belt.
Watching her response to the belt, Kevin suddenly understood what Becky wanted.... needed. She wanted to be driven to orgasm by pain alone, and then taken beyond that. Becky was what many would call a "painslut." She was more than capable of orgasm from just inflicted pain. Pain sexually excited her. Pain and pleasure were somehow mixed in her nervous system and her brain and the intensity of the pain could take her to very high levels of what she called "pain- pleasure." But today she wanted... needed more than that.
Kevin remembered that once, early in their relationship, she had intentionally forced a prolonged, violent argument. She knew which triggers to press in Kevin and had pushed him hard enough and long enough to caused it to become physical. Somehow, she had worked Kevin so that he totally lost control and actually hit her and hurt her. Once he lost control, she just stopped and let him beat her.
That scared Kevin because he had not thought that he was capable of such action. He stopped and ran from their apartment out into the night for a long walk. After he had calmed down, he returned to the apartment. Becky greeted him at the door sweet and happy as if nothing had happened. That scared him even more and he insisted that they talk about what had occurred. Becky was reluctant to talk, but eventually she said that she had needed to be taken past the point of pleasure from the pain. She said that she needed to be broken, and had forced Kevin to break her.
"Pain is my drug of choice," she explained. "It is as if I am addicted to what pain does for me." She paused and then said with a dreamy smile. "It makes me wet. It makes me happy. It makes me feel alive." Then her face lost all expression and her voice went totally flat as she continued, "But like any other drug, there are side effects. I build up a tolerance or something. It takes more and more pain to take me to the point of pain-pleasure. And once the built up tolerance gets to a certain point, I start losing the ability to feel pleasure-pleasure. I start needing pain, not to feel good, but just to not feel bad. When that happens, someone, somehow, has to take my body past pain-pleasure to true pain-pain so that everything resets itself. If the pain gets high enough, my brain reboots itself or something, and I start back at the beginning again."
Kevin didn't understand what she meant, but told her that if she ever needed him to reset her and reboot her brain again, all she had to do was ask. Kevin now knew that Becky's text was exactly that. She was asking him to "reset her." She wanted him to reboot her brain by taking her beyond pain-pleasure to pain-pain.
Kevin's swings with the heavy belt were moving slowly up her body. He was now creating wide, deep red welts on the very top of her ass cheeks where they joined her back. She was yelping with each strike, but there was a throaty moan developing beneath the yelps. He moved back lower so that the belt strikes were centered on the meatiest part of her ass. The yelps were now being overwhelmed by the moans and Becky was thrashing wildly in the throes of an intense orgasm.
Kevin knew that Becky was at the peak of pain-pleasure, but he also knew that to "reboot her brain" he needed to take her well beyond that peak into true pain-pain. He set down the belt and picked up the strange looking whip. It was made with two thin, grooved pieces of automotive serpentine belt that usually drive the timing gears in a car's engine. Someone had given it to Becky, but after trying a few test swings on herself, she decided that it was much too painful to actually use. Each belt was about an inch wide, and was smooth on one side with raised grooves running the length of the belt on the other side. Two pieces, each slightly more than a foot long, had been attached to a short wooden handle and wrapped in place with black leather. The whip could be used in either direction. According to Becky, the smooth side was very painful, but the grooved side created unbearable pain.
The fan-belt whip made almost no noise as Kevin smacked it into Becky's ass, probably because the grooves prevented a solid smack against the skin. The grooves, however, concentrated the force of the blow on the five ridges on the face of the belt. That caused intense pain.
Because of the intensity of the pain, even if the whip had made a loud smack when it struck, the noise would have been heard because it would have been drowned out by Becky's yells. Even through the ball gag, her screams were loud, long, and shrill. It was obvious that she was well past pain-pleasure and experiencing true pain-pain.
After about ten or fifteen strokes with the terrible, timing belt tawse, Becky began nodding her head rapidly up and down and saying "Ow, ow." At first Kevin thought she was yelling in pain, but then he realized she was trying to say, "Now. Now."
"Now what?" he thought. What am I supposed to do now? She was past pain-pleasure and far into pain-pain, what could she need now to complete the rebooting process?
Beck thrust her ass higher and higher into the air, almost bouncing on the bed. She was yelling "Ain ex ow. Ain ex ow."
Then it clicked. "Pain sex, now." The final thing that was needed to break her and reset her was sex without pleasure. Kevin was not a true sadist. He did not get sexual stimulation from hurting Becky. It was power that turned him on. Inflicting pain was sometimes a part of power, but it was her submitting to him that was his great aphrodisiac. Pain, itself, was not a necessary part of that equation. As he had spanked and whipped and beat her, his prick had remained flaccid.
Becky effectively begging him to fuck her brutally in the ass, however, sent a rush of sexual excitement through him that brought him immediately to full size and stiffness. He dropped the whip and crawled up onto the bed between her legs. She wanted pain sex... she needed pain sex, so he wasn't concerned about being gentle. He brutally thrust into her and began pumping.
The screams of pain that escaped around the ball gag normally would have caused him to stop immediately, but somehow he knew that she needed - if not wanted - this. So, despite the fact that she was sobbing heavily into the ball gag, he stayed in place on top of her. He continued pumping in and out of her ass while she wailed beneath him for several minutes. Then suddenly, she stiffened and clamped down very tightly on his prick with her asshole.
He drove himself deeply inside of her and spurted. Although it felt like she was having an orgasm, he knew that this wasn't an orgasm for her. Becky was obviously in pain, not bliss. After Kevin climaxed, Becky went limp as if completing an orgasm, but she did so suddenly, as a man would, rather than slowly as a woman does. She had not orgasmed, she had broken.
Becky now lay quietly on the bed and Kevin lay on top of her with his prick still imbedded in her ass. For many minutes they lay there, both of them breathing heavily. Kevin was unsure of what to do, so he just waited. Finally Becky shook her head back and forth and attempted to say something. He reached up and unstrapped the ball gag.
Once it was clear, Becky said softly, "Thank you." Then after a pause she asked, "Please untie me and hold me for a while."
Kevin did. She took off her blindfold and pulled the wax from her ears. Then she curled herself up on her side and pushed herself into Kevin as he curled himself around her.
After about fifteen minutes, she rolled over to face him, hugged him strongly, and said, "Make love to me."
He kissed her deeply and began stroking her breasts. She responded with an intensity she had not had for several months. His touch was lighting fires within her that he had been afraid had been somehow quenched in their recent time together. She thrust herself against him and said in a throaty whisper, "Fuck me. Fuck me now. My pleasure-pleasure is back, and I want to share it with you."
Kevin once more was on top of her, but now they were face to face and she was rising to meet each thrust as his prick pumped within her pussy. After several minutes she began shuddering and moaning. As he continued, her moaning became stronger and deeper. Then, as her passion continued to rise, her voice started to become louder and more shrill. They climaxed together, Kevin silently, Becky screaming out a long, loud, guttural cry.
They lay spent in each other's arms for a long time. Finally Becky spoke. "I wasn't sure you would understand what I needed," she said.
"I still don't understand," Kevin answered, "but I evidently guessed what you needed." "You would have to be a painslut like me to understand." she replied. "My body needs pain as if I were an addict and pain is my drug. But I build up resistance and if things don't restart every so often, I will keep seeking more and more intense pain until I destroy myself and everyone I love. I guess you have to break me once in a while to keep me whole."
"You're right, I don't understand " Kevin replied. "But I love you, and if you ever need to be broken again, just ask. I think I will remember what to do."
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END OF STORY
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