Craving Abuse

Abuse.
Domestic violence.

These things are bad, right?  Nobody wants to be abused.

So how come sometimes I crave that feeling?  Not that I actually want to be an abuse victim, or that I am at all, and I never have been.   
But occasionally I crave the feeling: the fear, the non consensual violence.   And something else besides just the force, but I'm not sure what it is. 
 I sometimes watch one of those movies where the "bad guy" comes home and beats up his wife for whatever pretext he's conjured up.  And I want to BE her.  I want to feel that feeling.  It trips all kinds of wrong and taboo buttons for me. 

That is what I was feeling last night.  Not wanting a spanking. Not wanting a flogging or a sensual experience or a "scene".  But wanting to feel that fear and receive that violence.  I couldn't come out and say it so plainly because I felt ashamed, and didn't want to tell him what to do (that takes all the fun out of this sort of thing, doesn't it?), but I did tell Master (after he gave me "The Look"tm ) that I would like him to be mean to me.

 "Not tonight," I said, "but sometime."  

Last night I was kind of tired and worn out and yet was still craving.  I didn't want just a fun spanking, but something really mean.  I like when he drags me around by the hair, throws me up against things, knocks me down.  I like it when he grabs my throat, calls me "whore" and demands to know what other men I have been fucking.  And I have to tell him. 

 I feel settled and happy afterward.   

Now I've been working on how to say it all morning, and am writing it out here for him, mainly, and also for me.  When I get these thoughts they won't leave me alone until I have written them down. 

He teased me that if he really wanted to be mean he'd call me schmoopie schnookums and kiss me gently and promise never to hurt me.  
And then he did just that.   Evil, huh?

But that was just the tease.  

Then came the main course.  He told me to get out of bed and strip.  I had worn a t-shirt (a wife beater- was this subconscious or circumstantial?) and PJ bottoms to bed, thinking (hoping?) we were going straight to sleep.
I started to make a noise of discontent, a moan of "Do I have to?" without actually saying the words, and he ordered me again to get up and strip.   I did. 

"Hand me the paddle and then suck my cock", he ordered.   I love/hate the paddle.   It hurt so good though;  I wanted to come. 
I was whimpering and sobbing around his dick a short time later.  

He fucked me violently, and I struggled.  He slapped me and hurt me with pressure points until I stopped struggling and gave in.   It was violent, and mean, and delicious.  Then he rolled me over and came inside me.  

I felt settled and happy after. 

He'd been planning to fuck me all along, but had been hiding his intentions because, I don't know.   He likes to keep me guessing.  And he does.