Sunday, 21 February 2010

Badface Investigates - Play Piercing

I look down at my forearm and there’s bright red blood running everywhere. Grinning uncontrollably I take a swig of vodka and pose for a bleary eyed photo. The girl taking photo puts the camera down and reaches for the vodka, which is running pretty low now, she looks at my arm and says, “I think I definitely put the needles in too deep, I‘m pretty hammered sorry.” This is my unorthodox introduction into the strange world of play piercing.

Basically how this happened is I got super drunk with this girl who randomly told me all about play piercing. As far as I could understand through the thick vodka haze you basically buy hypodermic needles off eBay then pinch a bit of skin and force them through. Sounded harmless enough, so I told her I wanted to try it.

With the benefit of hindsight I now realise I should have maybe asked some questions first. Simple things like, how long do you leave the needles in? Is it a good idea to do this why I’m so drunk? Also, and probably most importantly… why?

Still, aside from the mega bleeding from the combination of my boozed up blood being super thin and my boozed up play piercer shoving the needles in far too deep, my first experience of play piercing had been relatively painless, if you pardon the pun. Although, of course, alcohol is an aesthetic.

Partly due to being really drunk and also only having a pitiful four needles I figured that I should try play piercing again, but sober this time.

So now I am lying face down while this strange girl prepares to force the first needle into my back. She tells me to relax because it’ll only hurt more if I’m tense. On being reminded that it is going to hurt this time without vodka I tense even more.

The needle goes into my skin and literally pops out the other side, there is a slight tugging sensation in the middle. If you want to know how much it hurt, pinch yourself as hard as you can on the arm with your fingers nails, believe me you’ll stop before you get to play piercing pain.

I’m glad may head is buried in a pillow because I’m pretty sure I’m going through some of my more demented sex faces dealing with the intense pain, why the hell did I agree to do this? This is completely insane. Only one needle in and already I want to stop the whole thing, or drink some vodka, but I remind myself that would be cheating and brace myself for the next needle.

Of course just because I decided to be sober this time doesn’t mean my peircer is, after the second needle she casually mentions she may have had a bottle of wine before I turned up earlier. I look at my watch and it’s midday. Now I’m worrying not just about the sanity of play peircing itself but also of the person I’m allowing to repeatedly stab me in the back, so to speak.

More and more needles go in, I quickly lose count because I’m focusing on each individual painful little moment. I’m trying to relax but the second she pinches the skin I’m instantly consumed by anticipation and fear. It’s totally against everything normal to be allowing this amount of pain to be inflicted on me.

There are definitely over ten needles in my back now and we‘re getting into a rhythm, between breaks for her to drink wine from the bottle. Each needle is getting progressively more painful. Another one goes in, but this time instead of pain it’s just a feeling of euphoria, I feel like I’ve literally floated out my body - I probably made some pretty weird sex faces here.

My best guess is that needle was so painful that my brain just flooded me with endorphins as a knee jerk reaction, either way, I really liked it.

The girl lets out a little giggle. I nervously ask her what is wrong?

She says that I’m bleeding… and that she enjoys watching the blood run across my back. I’m not sure what part of what she said to be most alarmed at so I try to pretend she didn’t say anything at all and ask how close we are to being done. Sensing my trepidation she asks if I want her to stop. Despite my brain screaming yes, I hear my mouth saying that’s it’s fine to carry on.
I guess I’m trying to impress this slightly masochistic alcoholic now. Stupid pride.

After about an hour of wincing, cringing and flinching through the pain she announces that it’s finished. I want to see what it looks like but I’m pinned to the bed with pain, so she takes a picture and shows it to me. I count the needles… 38.

Then she tell me to brace myself because they hurt more coming out than they do going in.

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