Pain and Suffering

Well, that sucked.

I've been ill. Sick. Influenza. (Over the holidays).

I won't tell you everything that happened to me (even though it might actually turn some of you on), but I thought I was going to die for a while.

Nausea. Cramps. Losing control of body fluids.

It got me thinking. There have been times when I have experienced much the same sensations while in the middle of a bondage scene. Did I enjoy it? Well...kind of. I am not a pain slut, but accept extreme physical sensations as part of the bdsm submissive experience. In fact, there are types of pain that I accept and even "enjoy".

Tie me down to a table or wooden frame, force my legs apart, whip my pussy lips then push an unlubed speculum inside my pussy, spread my lips wide wide enough it hurts and then put nasty things inside me that poke and scrape, and I accept it. It brings sexual satisfaction. I am excited by it. Shock me with a parrilla and I am in heaven. (I know, I am a sick puppy).

Take me into a obgyn office, put me in stirrups and have him gently spread me open and do a careful inspection and I am unhappy, uncomfortable and want to get the hell out of there.

Pain/discomfort is incredibly situational. I know two girls that are complete masochists when it comes to bondage and sex play, so much so they come out of sessions bleeding, scarred, heavily bruised and with new and interesting holes in their body. The more the better. But that's the only situation in which they will tolerate that. Outside of that situation, they react to pain in the way most people would-- they totally avoid it.

So there I was, dealing with involuntary body fluid loss, and after it was mostly over I thought about the fact I had experienced very similar sensations and considered it exciting and enjoyable, whereas I would have done almost anything to avoid the sickness I just went through.

There's a number of things that can give one cramps during a bdsm scene. Muscle cramps, of course, can occur in almost any bondage position and can be very painful. That's part of the excitement of being tied up-- it's uncomfortable to the point of painful and once there, you just endure. There's no guarantee you are going to get your leg untied to relieve that charlie-horse.

Stomach cramps, though-- well, the most obvious way is by receiving an enema.

Enemas are weird-- they aren't actually a bondage kink, but are often practiced in conjunction with bondage. Enemas are not a big kink of mine, but they are interesting to use in combination with bondage.

I've been given enemas a number of times in my life. My first enema was one I gave myself when I was 16 using an enema bag I found in my mom's bathroom cupboard.

Yes, that is weird too-- the whole idea of my mom (or father) getting an enema. To this day I am not 100% sure it was there for medical reasons-- they might have had a bit of kink in their lives. But the idea of my mom giving herself an enema sort of made me sick (just like the idea of my dad humping my mom with her legs up high around him, fingers raking his back as he grunted away... ok I am getting weird with that image even now).

Come to think of it, my parents also had a vibrator that might have had multiple uses.

When I found this enema kit, the parents weren't supposed to be home for several hours and I was curious (some might consider me far too curious for a 16 year old girl). So I stripped naked, went to my own bathroom and filled the bag with water.

I remember clearly how aroused I was before I left the bathroom. The image of myself in the mirror, naked, with that enema bag filled up and waiting is clear in my mind even now. As a teen I had acquired a desire to try weird things, to do anything that would bring new body sensations and I had sort of fallen in love with the sexiness of my own body.

Once the bag was full I grabbed a towel and headed for my room and my bed. That was a bit dumb, I didn't think that enemas could get messy. At least I did put the towel down on my bed just in case, then lay on top of it.

The simple act of trying to insert the nozzle into my anus was a bit frustrating-- I had to reach around and push and shove, and the angle was awkward and I had to go at it from another angle and lift legs out of the way.  The nozzle was slightly larger at the end so it went in with a push and then slid another inch or so inside easily.

Once the nozzle went in, it started feeling interesting in ways I had been looking for. That was the first time I had ever inserted anything into my ass, and the sensation was novel and kind of fun. It felt just a little like going to the bathroom, but then, not really. Moving the longer nozzle around a bit produced sensations that immediately brought my other hand to my clit.

My mom's enema kit had three nozzles and I of course chose the largest and longest one (which was tiny compared to what's been in my ass in the years since). I got it all the way in, held the bag up in my left hand, and released the clip.

The water flowed in and was like, whoooooops that's a new sensation! Being a teenager used to flinging herself headlong into any new experience, I had filled the bag completely. I had no idea what a good amount would be so I just filled it all the way and let it flow in. I had to hold the bag up with one hand, but along with experiencing the sensation of water filling my bowels, my other hand was between my legs and rubbing my clit.

The combination of the two sensations was actually pretty good. Something pushed up inside my ass, water flooding my lower intestine, and my clit getting rubbed. I had an orgasm quickly, before the entire bag had emptied into my bowels.

Immediately after the orgasm there was some mild cramping. Pain. Not something I was new to (I had experienced some levels of discomfort in my self bondage), but still a unique experience. Not knowing what was normal or not with an enema and having my tummy cramping up led me to clip off the tube and run to the bathroom. There I expelled the enema (which took a lot longer than I thought it would) and felt much, much better.

I later tried using enemas as part of my self bondage experience, but that's a different story.

Last week, while recovering from waves of nausea and still experiencing stomach cramps as I waited for the next round of diarrhea, I thought about another experience I had which produced similar physical sensations as my sickness but in completely different circumstances.

Jason (the ex-husband) had loaned me to another master, a mutual friend south of where we live. He had a reputation for being complex in his rigging and ruthless in his domination. He regularly dominated one of the true masochistic women I know and the stories that came out of those sessions made me shudder. His name is Dean.

Dean made me strip formally before him and display my body. He remained clothed, which always makes me feel a bit humiliated and vulnerable, when I am naked and the guy is clothed. He inspected me, placing his hands and fingers in places designed to make me feel vulnerable and obedient. One finger went into my anus and worked in and out a bit. He inserted fingers into my mouth, and had me suck on them. He used my breasts to wipe his fingers dry.

He then "warmed me up" by tying me to a St. Andrews cross and giving me a good caning. I could just feel the competence with which he tied my wrists-- the multiple strands, the tight tie, the knot. I was going nowhere, the rope was tight and effective, the kind I dream of at night when I lay alone with my hand between my legs.

He tied my ankles as well, kicking them apart and roping them to the bottom of the cross.

The flogging consisted of several strokes of a rather thin cane, followed by his cock (which was quite hard) sliding between my legs and along my pussy crack.

"I want to feel you wet," he whispered in my ear.

I was already wet, of course, I had been wet when I walked in his door. He'd rub his cock on my pussy a few times then resume the caning.

Caning fucking hurts. It's amazing what a small little rod like that can do, especially when repeated over and over on bare skin. He had me sobbing and begging in a few minutes. Of course, I also knew that's what he likes so it was easy to let it go, let the tears come and promise to do anything for him if he'd just stop.

I knew the session with Dean was going to hurt when I first contemplated it, and my heart was pounding and my cunt slippery before I undid the first button to strip for him.

Each time he'd stop the caning to slide his cock between my pussy lips I would rub him, shifting my hips back and forth, sliding my outside pussy lips on his cock. If I got him off enough maybe he'd stop caning me. And I sort of liked the feeling of his cock between my pussy lips, and its head on my clit, and overall I would rather be getting him off than feeling the kiss of the cane.

He didn't accept this, of course, and continued caning me until my entire back and buttocks were burning like fire.

In the process of doing my best to get Dean off, I had an orgasm.

I came, a shuddering sweaty orgasm, the last time he ran his cock under my pussy. I think that's what made him stop, actually. He could tell the way I clutched his cock, rubbing frantically, and then sagged down, that I had reached a climax. (Dear lord I do love an orgasm when tied and helpless).

That's when he showed some mercy and stopped caning me.

(By the way, Dean is ugly, but has a decent body and a great cock. I know this from experience, obviously. But what keeps girls like me coming back to him is his way of bringing us to the brink of our limits, and mixing that with the pleasure we crave.)

I hung by my wrists for a little while, panting and recovering. Dean was preparing something else.

We were in his playroom; it's one bedroom of a two bedroom bungalow he owns, and has been soundproofed and the windows painted shut. His neighbors are rather close to his house.

After a few minutes of rest (hanging from my wrists), he came over and unroped my wrists from the cross. My ankles were still immobile and spread, but he let my wrists free. Standing close to the cross like that it took effort to make sure I didn't topple over. It was easier with my wrists tied.

He applied a quick and efficient crotch rope. That's just a quick double loop of rope around the waist that extends between the legs. It can be quite uncomfortable, depending on its positioning and how tight it is. He put the strands on either side of my pussy lips and cinched it pretty tight. Not terrible, but just another small bit of discomfort from being tied up.

The end that came up through my ass cheeks behind me was long and he used it to bind my wrists together. It dug a bit into my ass and after securing my wrists together he pulled the rope tighter, pulling my wrists down and closer to my ass and crotch. This caused me to lean back just a bit to relieve the strain and pressure on my cunt, which made me lose my balance because my ankles were still tied to the the base of the cross.

He caught me before I went over. The guy worked with a speed and accuracy that was amazing. I had barely been untied from the cross before her had my wrists tied behind my back and secured to the crotch rope.

A bit more attention and my breasts were tied in a harness and upper arms secured to the same harness.

This was specifically why I like going to Dean-- they guy can put me out of commission, completely helpless and vulnerable with interesting rope ties and positions, so easily. Professionally. Once I commit to a session with him, I know I am in for a ride and won't have a way out of whatever it is he wants to do. Helpless.

He undid the ropes to my ankles and quickly had them attached to ankle restraints that were already suspended from the ceiling. This was the first hint I had that I was going upside down and it made my heart pound. (Inverted suspension is not common, it takes special care and equipment and someone willing to do it). I wasn't gagged and started to whine.

"Oh, god no... Dean, please don't put me upside down. Shiiiit.... oh fuck, please, I will do anything you want."

He laughed as he helped me lay down on the floor, which I couldn't do because my wrists were tied pretty tightly behind my back, not to mention my elbows.

"Dear, you will do anything I want anyway. And you will do it with your head swinging above the ground and your legs spread wide in the air."

With that he pulled and my ankles rose into the air, my legs slowly angling up higher and higher until my ass dragged against the floor a foot and then went up as well. My shoulders remained on the floor a moment. That position isn't too bad, because the head is still close to the same elevation as the heart.

But, my ankles kept going up and my shoulders left the ground and then my head. The last bit of me to touch the floor was my pony tail, which brushed briefly before leaving the concrete floor behind.

Being upside down is very disorienting, as you might imagine. Plus, the body is not made to be upside down, all my internal organs were pushing down on my diaphragm and chest, my boobs were hanging the wrong way, and the blood was pushing on my head. Breathing is a bit different but still quite possible. It isn't painful (not at first anyway) but it isn't pleasant.

And of course, my legs were spread pretty wide, giving Dean access to my private parts, and there was nothing I could do about it except jerk around a bit.

I hung there a bit, wrists tied behind my back, breasts tied, ankles tied and pulled apart. I swung slowly, as if a light breeze were pushing me, but in reality it was just my breathing and heartbeat. I had a view of the wall across from me, but Dean wasn't within my view and I considered that I might be hanging there by myself for a while.

I tested the ropes. Yeah, I knew they were secure, but I couldn't help it. And it was part of the excitement-- struggling. Finding out I really was suspended upside down like a piece of meat, unable to move.

No worries. He didn't leave me alone long. Before a couple of minutes went by (it always seems longer when you are hanging upside down), I felt his fingers suddenly digging into my cunt. He felt around, deep inside. I could feel him going deep, fondling my cervix, pushing it around, and his thumb was on my clit. I couldn't help but moan a bit. I was already so fucking aroused from being tied up all I wanted was another orgasm.

I really seemed I might get it. He was jamming fingers deep into me, which hurt but the pain was something I was used to and associated with cumming, so I began to breath harder. The sounds I was making were the pain grunting I make when being roughly manipulated inside.

His fingers were completely wet from my cunt when he withdrew them and shoved them into my ass. A bit unexpected, but then anything he does is unexpected. I just embraced the sensation and let it happen, feeling myself coming closer to orgasm as he rammed fingers deep inside me. He keeps his nails trimmed (like a good lesbian), so he could dig around inside me, pushing and manipulating the tissues deep inside. He pushed hard enough it felt like he was manipulating both my rectum and my vagina, which was interesting, while a little painful.

He was getting my ass prepared for the next stage.

I'd been inverted about five minutes but it was already getting uncomfortable. The pressure in my head had settled in and the disorientation was difficult to deal with. I knew it was just the beginning though. Endurance. Part of what I do in bondage. Endure.

He showed me the next item I would have to deal with. The enema bag. Full. Very full. I didn't know how much but it was certain it wasn't a small one.

"Oh... fuck..." I said.

"Maybe a bit later," he said casually and inserted the nozzle into my ass. He didn't need lube, he had loosened my anus with his fingers quite effectively. It was a simple nozzle, not one of the fancy inflatables-- he didn't need those because I was upside down and it wouldn't fall out, and was thin enough I wouldn't be able to push out. And if I did, I would just be burbling my own feces all over myself, so I wasn't going to try and expel anything while upside down.

The guy knows his stuff. He's evil.

There was no preparation, no todo, no ceremony, no waiting. The nozzle went inside me, and a second later I felt the liquid flow. It went in easier than other enemas, I believe because I was inverted. My bowels filled, the water draining through my large intestine and making its way further up... or down? It felt different than other enemas going in, probably because of my inversion. I could feel it spreading, the sensation covering a larger portion of my abdomen, and moving quickly, too.

"Holy shit," I said. Or something equivalent, I don't remember exactly. I'd had plenty of enemas in my life but this was the first one inverted and it seemed to just slide in easy and smooth and fill me quickly. It wasn't painful, just very filling.

At first.

I think almost all of the liquid had gone in when the peristalsis hit. Peristalsis is the normal motion of the intestines that push matter along in the downward direction. When an enema interferes with this normal function, the intestines cramp trying to do their job. It's like bad diarrhea pain and hurts like hell.

This doesn't always happen with enemas, but it's more likely with large ones, deep ones, and ones that contain certain types of additives. I don't know exactly what Dean did but that enema went in smooth and deep, and when it was done, the cramps hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Oh... fuck... Dean... oh god... oh shit that hurts... Dean, please... no more..."

"I think now is the time for your gag," he said conversationally.

He slipped a ball gag into my mouth and buckled it tight. Ball gags don't really stop me from making a lot of noise, but they do make it harder to be understood. It's a psychological, mental plaything. It also holds the jaw open (another form of immobilization) and makes you drool, which is especially unpleasant when hanging upside down.

My wrists were already tied to the crotch rope which pulled back on my arms and shoulders. I used this to pull my shoulders and head back a bit so my face pointed down to the ground, rather than facing the wall. This was a little less nauseating and disorienting than being completely upside down, and the drool from my gag didn't run down into my nose and eyes.

I could do this for short periods at a time, but the muscle strain was too long for more than a few seconds. It also made me start to swing back and forth, which doesn't help the disorientation.

The cramps also made the nausea worse. Hanging upside down, being disoriented, and having severe stomach pain came together to make me really nauseous. I grunted and moaned and complained through my gag, and what it got me was partly good, partly bad.

"It hurts, I get that." Dean said calmly. "It's supposed to hurt, actually. That's what I do here. Make women hurt."

Yeah, I that's why I came there, too. To be hurt. But damn, this was awful.


I kept moving my head back to keep the drool from sliding up my face, and to help keep my head from being completely upside down. This caused my body to swing back and forth gently.

Dean watched me for a while as I struggled, trying to cope with the liquid flowing in, bloating my stomach. It's actually sort of humiliating to have someone give you a forced enema. I don't know how else to describe it (other than painful). Having him sit and watch me suffering from this humiliation intensified the feelings of pain and helplessness.

"Let me help you," he said after a couple of minutes. "The enema is basically in, we will let the last bits drip in but maybe we can distract you from the pain in your abdomen."

He squeezed the enema bag, forcing the last few ounces of water into my bowels, but left the nozzle in.

"We'll leave this in to help you retain the enema. Now. For your distraction."

I had been grunting and moaning and even trying to bend at my waist because of the cramping, which was really very painful; more pain than I normally get in a bondage session. I had also begun swearing at Dean, taking my frustrations and mental suffering out on him the only way I could. He ignored it, of course.

What he did do was an example of why I return to Dean, even though he can get rather intense.

A nice vibrator, right on my clit.

Oh fuck, the mixture of pain and pleasure upside down was about ready to make me explode. It didn't take long before I was shuddering with the warm glow of an orgasm at Dean's control. He didn't hold back either. He pressed that vibrator to my cunt, massaged me, slid it over my lips, and pulled that orgasm out of me.

It's an enigma, or contradiction of sorts, of how I can have such pleasure in the midst of pain and discomfort. The peristalsis had actually subsided somewhat by the time he began the vibrator, but was still there, and being upside down wasn't exactly comfortable. And yet I came like a freight train.

The only explanation I have for this is Pavlovian. I started doing self bondage in my early teens and associated it with sex play from that time. The bondage evolved and became more intense, and uncomfortable, and actually painful, and all the while it was still associated with orgasms and sexual pleasure. So... over time I have come to associate being tied up and abused with sexual pleasure and orgasms. Pain doesn't prevent me from having an orgasm, in fact it makes orgasms more intense.

It was the second orgasm of the session.

I'd been suspended upside down for about 20 minutes, maybe half an hour. But he wasn't done with me. The cramps were coming and going, at times gone. He decided to distract me from the abdominal pain with some pain elsewhere. Namely, my breasts.

It is a strange discovery but nevertheless quite true that when suffering one kind of pain, having pain applied to another area of the body, a different kind of pain, can actually lessen the first pain. It actually can help. Not a lot, because then you have to suffer the second kind of pain, and eventually you are just suffering, regardless of where.

But at least for a little while, having pain applied to my breasts, distracted me from the pain in my stomach.

Dean used a flogger to whip my breasts. A much more typical kind of pain, one I am very used to. Having my breasts whipped is not a big deal to me (any more). In fact, it acts as a great warm up to some really good orgasms. (Yes, I am a sick puppy). Nipple clamps are sort of in the same category as a breast flogging-- pain I have gotten used to and can actually enhance the physical experience of bondage related sex.

Dean gave my tits a good flogging. Don't get me wrong, it hurt. It also distracted from the cramping, though that was very sporadic. Sometimes I was just suffering from the breast flogging. The breast pain also did a fantastic job of distracting me from the nausea.

I have no idea how far the enema had trickled inside me, but I did know it had made its way deep inside. Further than any enema I had experienced.

I couldn't help it, I reacted to every strike of the flogger, tensing my muscles, jerking. That didn't help the enema cramps much, and eventually I was exhausted. Simply exhausted. The different kinds of pain, the orgasm, the jerking and struggling, it all produced a sense of complete exhaustion, mentally and physically.

Yes, I can be broken. Give me enough torture and helplessness and humiliation and pain and pleasure and orgasms, I am reduced into a wobbling bit of jelly that has stopped thinking, and just reacts. Just obeys. Just endures.

I had reached that state, and Dean could see it. I was crying, but not hard. Just tears mixing with the snot and drool dripping down (or up) my face.

Dean stopped whipping me and said, "Give me another few orgasms."

I didn't argue. I just hung there. The bloat and cramping in my stomach was just part of life, to be endured. I waited as he took the vibrator and hung it from above, and pushed it into my cunt, where it stayed on the highest setting.

I only had one more orgasm before he had mercy. It had taken me another ten minutes under the unrelenting stimulation of the vibrator for me to cum, I was too exhausted and in too much pain, too disoriented.

He let me down. Lowering me slowly onto the concrete floor of his playroom, my head touched first, then my shoulders, then back, then ass. As soon as my shoulders touched I felt the blood begin to flow in better directions, my head felt better, and as I descended my entire body and well being began to feel better.

Except for the cramps, which renewed as soon as he lifted me up into a standing position and held me there. I was dizzy, very dizzy, unable to stand on my own. And I needed to expel that enema, really, really badly. It hit me as soon as I stood, just how badly I needed to go. A bit leaked past the nozzle that was still inside me, now that gravity was helping my bowels. (This is an example of why Dean doesn't have carpeting. A large part of his playroom is actually covered with rubber floor matting.)

He guided me to a bucket and helped me squat over it.

I didn't have to ask; as soon as the plug was removed the enema flooded out in one huge squirt. It was such a relief to get out, I didn't even think about the humiliation of being made to poop diarrhea into a bucket in front of a man. The initial squirt lasted a few seconds and provided immediate relief, but it wasn't all. A few seconds another squirt came out. And then another. And another.

After ten minutes or so the amount of squirting had subsided to an occasional trickle. The embarrassment of what was going on hit me then. I was sitting on a bucket, naked, while Dean observed me pooping into it, performing a body function.

Ah well, this is the life I have chosen. Or perhaps, the life that chose me.


I hadn't gotten any more of the enema out of me for a few minutes when Dean suggested I go ahead and dump the bucket in the toilet. I was still gagged and had my arms tied behind my back, but I stood and carried it into the bathroom, managed to dump it and flush.

That was another humiliation; having to clean up my own mess that happened as a result of his torturing me.

But I did it. And then came back out and sat on the same bucket for another half an hour because I kept leaking. The inverted enema had pushed so far up into my bowels it was taking a long time to come out.

When I finally felt well enough to go home, Dean made a small suggestion, sort of the last bit of humiliation.

"You may continue to leak a bit for up to a day, given the amount of liquid and how deep it went. I suggest you wear a butt plug until tomorrow morning."

He pulled out a nice, clean, stainless steel ass plug for me and watched as I inserted it before getting dressed.

"No worries. You can return it the next time you drop by for a session."

I kissed him before climbing into my car. He hadn't fucked me at all during the session, though I was certain he'd masturbate to thoughts of it later.

I did too.