Libertines 15. Pain Control

I had never thought about my thresholds before… how much of any given stimulus I could take before I broke down.  I had never been tested… I never tested myself.

Now I find myself tested every day.  I find myself mercilessly pushed over the edge at nearly every waking moment.  The horror of it all is that I am becoming accustomed to it.  I look forward to any stimulus, really; the greatest fear, that I never let on, is of being left alone.  The damned drug is twisting my mind… I didn’t even know what it was that those bastards were shooting me up with until after I witnessed the ultimate provenance of their ‘medicine’… 

I hate them.  I would stake them, sit them down on a six foot spear and watch as the strength in their legs gave out and they slowly slid down the pole, the broadhead reaching its inexorable way through their bowels… I rail against them.  I fantasize about killing them, in ways that I would never even have believed existed, in my previous life… but the truth is I make no real effort to escape, or even to injure them.  My escape is contained within the clear liquid that flows into my veins daily… It infuses me with Zen calm.  It takes me to a warm place where nothing touches me, a place I never imagined… it is a perfect place.  It allows me to maintain some dignity in the face of this ignominious treatment I endure, it gives me pain control.

Pain control. 

The martinet came down, scoring nine red tracks in the newly pristine surface of Genia’s ass.  She jumped, an involuntary reaction of the long nerves, to be expected.  ”Increase the rate to 15 mg per second, Win, if you would,” I said, eyeing the intravenous setup.  Genia lay upon her stomach, on the gurney, two spreader bars restraining her completely.  The bars themselves were bound to the head and foot of the gurney to prevent any twisting attempt to avoid the strokes we applied.  She was gagged as well, more as a humiliation than a practical measure.

Win adjusted the IV and I saw Genia’s body relax minutely as the drug flowed faster.  I stroked her again with the martinet and she accepted the stroke with no involuntary reactions; we noted the rate and then we both worked her… I pulled her head back by the hair and looked into her half-lidded eyes… “We have given you time to heal only so that we may ruin your unblemished bum yet again, my dear, please don’t think us merciful,” I declared, and she closed her eyes, a tear escaping, which I tasted and found exquisite.  Her ass was well tattered, yet we belabored her more, the bright blood staining the white paper that covered the gurney.

Pain control.  It is nothing but a neutral excitation.  It is happening elsewhere, to someone else.  It is far from me, so far away, I am so far away…

I had this same fantasy, recited this same litany the first time I gave myself to a man… I realize in hindsight that the first man I fucked was cut from the same cloth as my current masters.  He spread my legs very wide and parted my pussy unhesitatingly, with a single, deep thrust.  I screamed, and he laughed, clapping his hand over my mouth and driving his cock into me again, battering my cervix and ripping free any evidence of virginity.  He followed the initial ten or so strokes with a smart ass-fucking, again with no lead in, no warmup… I separated this from my thinking self and endured, little knowing that this scene would repeat itself twofold, a hundredfold in less than a year later.

I can feel nothing but the warmth of the heroin.  The drug blankets me, holds me in its vaporous arms… The pain communicates as distant sounds, heard through a seashell, possibly.  I am at the point where I need to stretch my imagination to identify it, and when I do it is dim, so dim.  It is dark in here… I like it this way.  I do not need lights…

“She’s losing consciousness, quickly, the cutoff!” I scrambled to the switch and threw it, rushing back to remove the gag and examine Genia’s blue-tinged face… I flipped her over, began rescue breathing, and she responded within fifteen seconds.  Her eyes fluttered open and she regarded me nakedly for a full second; then she looked away, eyes half-closed again.  I stroked her face and she did not move, nor did she cry…