The man with the piercing eyes
"And where do you want to do it?"
I have known him for a while, but mostly from parties I go to. I know he's into a lot of stuff that I also like, not the main stream bdsm things, more the edgy and unusual stuff. He's a man of peculiar desires, so to speak. Which I admire in people, I mean, I like it when people have their own opinions and desires rather than just follow the mob. From his accent I think he's Belgian. I like Flemish, it sounds friendly, almost musical. Compared to Dutch, their words are sometimes a little off - but that of course depends on what your own native language is - and in general, the Flemish have a better control of Dutch than the Dutch.
Friday evening, a drizzle turns into a shower, the surface of the freeway is wet, it's hard to see the white lines, and when my car aligns with the tracks that trucks have made in the right lane, it starts to aquaplane, until I slow down enough to let the tires get a grip on the road, and I switch to the left lane. I pick up Shana, she's already waiting, she gets into the car in one of the brief moments that there's no rain. We talk, about the party, about what she and I want to do, about work, about politics. About the attitude of people towards kink in the country that she's from, a strongly religious country. I could never live in a country where religion is forced upon you. But if you're born there, it's hard to make the choice to leave.
- o -
"Here it comes!" and he pushes the 12ga needle through my left outer labia. It hurts, but not a lot. I don't scream, I don't say ouch. Then he puts in the ring, and looks at it. Looks good, not a lot of blood is coming out. The ring is not very big, and it turns out to be hard to get the closing ball in. I try to do it myself, but I can't. After a while, he manages to put it in properly. A friend is taking pictures, she's taken about a couple of dozen so far, sometimes clicking twice because she's not familiar with the bulgy camera. As the replacement photographer, she now has the front row seat, and she seems to enjoy it.
I had been considering these piercings for a while, asking people for good piercers, but I not having found one. I prefer the setting of a private space or a party space over the sterile environment of a piercing shop, and I rather get pierced by a friend then by an unknown person. With Raelyn, it was different. She was like the goddess of piercing, at the time, everybody loved her, and two good friends were there when my labia first got pierced, in Raelyn Gallinas home. Now, at the party, a lot of friends are here, and a good friend is doing the piercings. I had decided for two labia piercings, one on each side, and nipple piercings. The labia rings are a tad smaller than the ones I had, the nipple rings are 8ga, which is huge, given the size of my nipples.
The right labia - shouldn't that be "labium", it's not plural, right? - only takes a couple of minutes. It hardly hurts, nor does it bleed afterwards. It feels good. But I know that nipples are different. The 8ga needle looks huge, when it gets out of the package and it's held up in front of me. It's hard to imagine that such a thing can go through a nipple without ripping it apart. It takes a while to do the measurements so the piercings on both sides will look more or less the same. Black dots are put on my nipples, cold fluids are used to sterilize them, or at least clean them. The black dots help the piercer to put the needle in at the right place, even when the skin is pulled and distorted. And you want the needle to be put in at the right spot, because there is no "oops, let's try again" here.
Then suddenly, a latex glove pulls out my nipple a little and the needle goes through the flesh, nice and slowly, until it sticks out at the other side. I think it went much more slowly than necessary, for obvious reasons. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but I didn't scream and I didn't say ouch. But I only just didn't.
The fourth and final needle feels thicker than the others. It certainly goes slower. I can't hold myself, I say ouch, then I scream, then I curse. People laugh, like as a relief that I finally show that it does hurt. I am not a robot. It hurts a lot. Shana looks at me. She's been standing close to me, as if she was going to catch me when I'd faint. She's relieved that I didn't. Some people come closer to have a quick look, one is a piercer himself, he takes a real close look, then helps me to get my dress back on properly without smearing blood all over it. Shana zips me up. Then, a lot of hugging is performed by everybody.
Before leaving, it's about 4am, we talk to friends at the bar, I have my final double espresso and a glass of water. Shana looks tired, she's had a busy week. And so have I. Not much later we go downstairs to the dressing room.
When we leave, he's there, in the hallway, also preparing to leave. We hug again, I thank him again, and he thanks me for the opportunity to do what he enjoys. No piercing looks this time, just the twinkle in his eyes when we say goodbye. He's a man of peculiar desires...