My body aches with the pain of pleasure so intense, I want to run away. My brain is screaming at me, telling me to stop this. I could easily say ‘Stop, I can’t take it anymore’ but he’s not done and I’m curious; curious to know what will happen if I push my body past these limits.
The next orgasm brings an explosion of pleasure. My brain disconnects from my body, I have nothing now but instincts. Crying out my entire body begins to shake. I feel myself opening to the universe, light flooding though me. I am no longer myself; everything I know about myself ceases to exist… All that I am is that moment.
How do you go back to normality once you’ve had the universe inside you?
I start to crave it, the intense orgasm that is earned through pain. No longer fearing when pain is mingled with pleasure, I wince as I ask him to help me push through it. My determination is always rewarded with orgasms that clear the soul.
I become greedy in my lust for mind altering orgasms. Pushing my body far past the limits it urges me to maintain. I struggle to catch my breath as he whispers ‘just breathe’ between thrusts. Unable to comply with his demands my body shuts down. There is nothing but darkness.
This is it, ‘le petit mort’. It’s no metaphor. It’s happening now, and it’s not little.
Accustomed now to my frequency of passing out during sex he continues, expecting me to awake quickly as I have so many times before.
Unable to observe any sign of life from my unconscious mass on top of him, his first aid training kicks into gear. Placing me on my back, his hand resting on my chest with his ear pressed to my lips he eagerly awaits my breath.
When it’s clear that there is no sign of life he rubs my sternum and pinches at my collar bone, attempting to force my body awake with pain. Still I give him nothing, no breath. With what he would later describe as an eerie calmness he prepares to begin resuscitation.
As his lips draw closer to mine I gasp for air. Finally catching my breath the only words I am able to find are “What happened?” “You completely stopped breathing! For two minutes!”
Unwilling to let a small thing like death stop me from leaving him satisfied, I purr in his ear that I’m still horny. He is wary. His grasp is gentle as I assure him that I’m fine. I’m breathing. Two more orgasms follow until he finally collapses besides me, exhausted and drained.
He will always be the man who takes my breath away, and I will always be the girl who died in his arms.