Three Days Grace ~ Pain
Pain, without love
Pain, I can’t get enough
Pain, I like it rough
‘Cause I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all
You’re sick of feeling numb
You’re not the only one
I’ll take you by the hand
And I’ll show you a world that you can understand
This life is filled with hurt
When happiness doesn’t work
Trust me and take my hand
When the lights go out you will understand
I love this song, and there was a time when the above lyrics pretty much summed up everything about me.
When I first met Sir, my needs were very simple. I wanted to feel again…not emotion (I couldn’t cope with that) but pain. Pure, physical, mind quietening pain.
And sex. I wanted to enjoy sex again, after years in an unfulfilling, abusive relationship.
Whilst everything else in my life was going to hell, pain was the only thing I could understand, and relate to. Emotion had been blocked out, as a way of surviving the immense negativity I’d learned to detach myself from it, to set myself apart, had put the emotion in a box and buried it.
I didn’t want cuddles, kisses, hugs or any form of intimacy….I didn’t want soothing words or tender caresses. I just wanted the pain, with a side order of fucking.
We saw each other irregularly, sometimes every few weeks, sometimes there’d be months without him visiting. I didn’t need Him, or so I told myself with a fierce level of self defiance. I remember telling Him there was no way I was ever going to give anymore than I already did, and I sure as fuck was NEVER going to call Him Sir. No way, never, nuh-uh. Not happening!!
I was not going to give of myself emotionally….he could use my body to fuck and inflict pain for his own pleasure, that was fine, but I was NOT going to open myself up to being hurt again.
I look back at that time and see that, where once I saw pain as a purely linear experience, now I notice all the hidden nuances and flavours…the searing white heat of being bitten by a lust-filled sadist, the glorious slow burn of a flogging, the breathtaking sharpness of a pair of clover clamps being attached to already sensitive nipples which immediately focusses the mind, and not forgetting the intense and occasionally overwhelming harsh sting of the cane. There are others ofcourse, these were just the examples which immediately came to mind.
Between that first meeting, and now, there’s been a not so subtle shift in what I want….and at the centre of that He stands. Maybe He was always standing there, I just didn’t see Him until now. These days I want the pain because it’s Him delivering it. Actually, scrap that, it’s not so much the pain I want, but His touch that I crave…whether that be via a cane, or teeth, a spanking, or simply His hands brushing the hair gently from my face. I still need the pain, but it’s not the all encompassing thing it was, it’s not the only element of what we do which occupies space in my mind.
Our relationship has naturally, with the aid of time, evolved into much more than just occasional fuck buddies.
Where once I shut the door behind Him and didn’t give much thought to what had occurred during His time here, now the same door is shut and I feel immediately empty and a little bit lost. Where once I resented the marks that my body held onto as a memento of his visits, now I carry them with a sense of pride, and lament their passing once faded.
I sleep in my collar to maintain that connection in my mind, and for comfort I curl myself around the memories we’ve created.
Through the catharsis of pain, I’ve learnt to trust again….to allow Him in, to let Him see me, the whole of me, not just the bits I’d like Him to see with the rest, in all it’s insecure fucked up ugliness, hidden away(and as I’m repeatedly being told, hiding from Him is NOT an option!)
It’s been a tough journey to take, many tears of frustration have been shed, but it’s definitely been worth it.