This Pain Is Just Too Real の小説・ストーリー

and my power comes with a price. The price which I have to pay. The pain coursing through my body is unbearable, a sharp, relentless agony that tears at my very soul. I can feel it—Bryan's pain, now my own—every breath, a struggle, every heartbeat, a reminder of the cost of my power.

People usually describe pain as physical. They couldn’t be more wrong. Pain isn’t always physical. Pain is the voice in my head singing aloud my inadequacies. Pain is standing by this door and listening to my woman explain the extent of her ordeal to her best friend. Pain is not being able to do anything for her. Pain is knowing that my woman lost a part of her that she might not get back. I twist the knob separating the en-suite waiting room and her main room, crossing the room on slow and soft steps.

He is in a panic, he don’t know what to do and he look desperate right now. But the most thing I hate with what I see right now is the guilt he has in his face. Like, there’s nothing I needed to ask. The answers are all written in his face. And it fucking hurts. “Babe…” “This explains the lack I feel when we are in that bed and doing it, huh? I thought it was me… I thought I have shortcomings and having problems with pleasuring you.” I hissed, trying not to let my tear ran down my cheeks. “But its not me, right? Heck, I’m not even sure if its women you want at all.”

“ Ahhh “ I cried out as another cramp hit me . I caught my breath in a startled gasp of pain. These tablets should help to ease the pain. I think there's no amount of medicine that can take this pain away. Fuck !! I'm sick of pain The vibrator is not helpful. My hands are sore. I can't bear this pain anymore. Wiping tears from my eyes with my hand,I failed to suppress a sob Fuck my pride I'm going to him; he's the only person that can tame my pain. I got up from bed and I felt dizzy, the high fever and ache was almost crippling.

That was the only peace I had, until I woke to find that it wasn't real and the dreadful rollercoaster ride would start all over again. Now my laughter turned into the tears I'd been holding at bay for so long. The pain was visceral, like a knife ripping into my heart with deep harsh gashes. I never knew there could be this much pain inside. I think I screamed and that's what brought both women rushing to my side. They seemed scared as they patted me down, asking me where the pain was, what hurt?

I'm fine going to hell with the image of his face and body as the last thing I saw. It was the very minute I accepted everything, that it stopped hurting. He never reduced his pace, I just began to enjoy it. I shut my eyes, moaning softly. All I had to do was accept my reality, accept I've been pretending all along, that I never felt unbearable pain, that I'm sick and I wanted this, I wanted him to wound me and take every other man away from my life. “More. More. Fuck, more.” I moaned aggressively, my heart threatening to pop right into my rib cage because it was currently getting overused.

No one had ever looked at me like my pain mattered. And now these two stupid, gentle, impossible girls were doing it. I wanted to scream at them to stop. I wanted to thank them. I wanted to kill them for making me feel this way. The pain had teeth now. Sharp, relentless, and sinking deeper into every inch of me with each heartbeat. It started in my spine and spread outward, hot, liquid fire racing through veins that felt too thin to hold it. My back arched off the mattress again, muscles seizing so hard I heard something pop in my shoulder.

I swing again. The iron, wrapped in heavy leather, connects with the dummy’s shoulder. The wood splinters with a satisfying crack. I spin, putting my hip into the next blow, driving the force upward. My leg protests, a sharp, hot spike of pain radiating from the scar tissue in my thigh, but I welcome it. Pain is honest. Pain makes sense. Pain is a transaction, you exert too much force, you pay the price. It is infinitely simpler than the transactional silence of the courtyard yesterday evening.

It couldn’t be normal to feel like this. My mates, my wonderful men were stood there talking… FUCKING TALKING while I’m suffering. “Just- just,” I pant heavily, wearily, “put. The. Fire. Out. Now.” I felt alive but weak, a live wire but suffering all at once. It was a heady yet tormenting mix and I couldn’t control my body nor my mouth. “Just fucking do it already! SHUT UP AND DO SOMETHING!” I was becoming impatient. I couldn’t concentrate on what Derrick or Douglas were saying. All I could think of, feel, see was the excruciating pain seeping through my veins.

"I can't go for long Kris. I'm barely hanging on." I was way past the pain that was in my hands, arms, legs, and the pain that was around my neck and I ached for the fact that I couldn't run and save myself. At this point I didn't think I had it in me anymore to stay and uncover the truth to everyone… but I had to. And the realisation hurt more than anything I'd ever felt. The realisation that I would most definitely go through even worse pain than this and I would still have to stay. It hurt worse than going to prison for two years for a crime I didn't commit. It hurt, and it hurt some more.