Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

Pain in Blood

Blood ran down my leg. I could feel it as I sprinted up the stairs to our tiny bathroom. I had excused myself without raising alarm, I just hoped that no one noticed how quickly I backed out of the room.

“No, no, no!” I cried. I sat on the toilet and wept silent tears. My parents were downstairs. They couldn’t know. At least they were getting ready to leave. I put on a maxi-pad that made me feel like a toddler with a diaper. Then I went down the hall to the bedroom to take off my skirt and put on a pair of much more comfortable sweatpants. My mom would notice the change of clothes, but I was hoping she would think I was just in for the day. My father wouldn’t notice at all.

I checked the mirror for evidence of my crying. My eyes were a bit puffy, but the redness was gone. When I got back to the dining room everyone had gotten some coffee and the table had been cleared.

He saw my face and tilted his head in that adorable way he always does to ask if I was alright. He squeezed my shoulder as he walked passed. I shook my head, but put on a weak smile to let him know we would talk later.

And later took forever.

My parents wanted to chat about Thanksgiving plans and anything else I could care less about in that moment. I sipped my coffee as my stomach cramped, though I wasn’t sure it was emotional or physically caused. The pain was real enough. After an hour I was near ready to beg them to go.

I don’t know how, but I think he knew. Not just that something was wrong, but what the pain behind my fake smile meant. He cleared the coffee and began collecting coats and bags.

‘You guys have a long drive…they are calling for snow later this afternoon.’ He knew exactly what to say to get them out the door.

As soon as the car pulled out of the drive I curled into a ball on the couch and released all the pain I had been holding in for over an hour. He sat down next to me and pulled me into his lap. I wailed into his shirt. He held me and rubbed my back. When I ran out of tears he sat me up and walked out of the room. I just stared into the distance, trying to focus on anything in the living room without success.  My eyes may have been too swollen, but mostly I think I just didn’t care anymore. He returned a few moments later with a blanket. Putting his feet up on the couch he pulled me into him. I lay down against this chest as he pulled the blanket around me.

“Today will be over soon. Tomorrow will be better. And we have plenty of time to make our family.” He produced a glass of water and some pain medication for me to take. Then he tucked me up under this chin. He rubbed my back until I fell asleep against him, warm and safe.

I just had to keep telling myself, ‘It’s just blood, it’s only blood’.

Wicked Wednesday for post Stockpiled Cravings


**I’m sorry if this was upsetting or a trigger for anyone’s bad experience. This was one of the worst days of my life. And without Sir, it would have been unbearable. Sometimes sexy is providing support and care; especially in the those moments when sex is the furthest thing from your mind.**

5 Responses to “Pain in Blood”

  • Marie Rebelle

    I have no idea what a miscarriage is like, but can imagine the pain of the loss when you want to start a family. So sorry you had to go through this. Thanks for sharing.

    Rebel xox

  • Tamar

    Ohh, this is…heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time. What an awful thing to have had to go through, but how beautiful in how he cared for you. I think you’re absolutely right- “sometimes sexy is providing support and care, especially in those moments when sex is the furthest thing from your mind”.

  • Livvy Libertine

    Heartrending, but beautifully written. Thank you for letting yourself be vulnerable and share this. <3

  • Molly

    I can’t say I have ever experienced this but your pain and sadness is so evident in this writing that I wanted to hug you tight. I completely agree with you about writing the ‘bad’ stuff too. I think a good blog tackles all aspects of life not just the good stuff


  • Bee

    This is real pain, pain I can feel too. Well done for sharing, it needs to be said but it’s so incredibly hard to share something so deeply personal.


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