[More prose-esque
but give it a shot anyway yeah?]
Pain or pleasure?
If someone were to hold a gun to your head right now and scream pain or pleasure? PAIN OR PLEASURE? What would you say?
Don't hesitate, now, you're wasting precious seconds of your life. Right now buddy, this is it.
This is no joke.
Cold steel on your temple, pressing so hard your flesh throbs underneath it. Hard enough to make a fingerprint impression of the 55 caliber barrel.
Pain or pleasure?
No spouse, no kids, a few friends you don't know all that well, sometimes they call you on holidays. Your birthday.
You wonder what they'd say if they knew you screwed a stranger just to save your life.
(...That would be pleasure).
Or how depressing to see your brains splattered across the wall in your apartment. It was painted a simple eggshell, but they'd never get the color right. There would always be a lingering spot on the wall that just looked...off, and the guy trying to rent it out again could say
"Oh, that. Yeah some guy was making dinner one night, Italian. The food, not the guy. Clumsy guy, yeah. He got marinara sauce all over the friggen wall. Heh."
You never cooked.
Pain.
Pain or pleasure, pain or pleasure?
For some people, the word is the same. Having your stomach sliced up with a razor blade signature from your lover, the gasp of air when a gag is ripped off your mouth, for some that is pleasure.
So if someone gets you with a gun to your head and asks you "pain or pleasure?" and your plan out is a romp in the sack, er, pleasure, I hope the guy with the gun to your head isn't the masochistic type.
Unless you are.
Pain pain pain.
For some, the humiliating act of sex with a stranger, the most completely intimate act between two people, sharing your bodies, becoming one entirety, with someone they've never met? Hell, they might as well be dead.
