The Piercing

Info NurseJones
01 Apr. '17
Well, the piercing needle arrived a week ago. It has been sitting on the mantle, waiting, and the day has come.

We are about to do it. At a little before 6:30 I will make my little "-*- " symbol the way I always did to end my session. Then I'm going to go into the bedroom where Jay will tie me down and pierce me. Part of the scene is this little pit stop, to write this, because I'm a closet exhibitionist, and I like writing about what we do. Odd thought, that. Writing like this is an intensely personal and private act that I enjoy partly because I know I will make it public. You are here because I need a closet audience. I get a little frissant when I think about you reading this.

Thought: exhibitionism is a very private and personal act. Is there irony there?

I feel kind of silly, making such a big deal out of it. People get pierced all the time. Even _I_ have seven piercings. I would have had eight if I hadn't had to let my nostril heal over to get a job.

But I got those piercings for the piercings. This one is for the pain. This is my first experience with pain, deliberately inflicted pain. I keep writing the word, as though that were the same as confronting the act.

6:05

How I feel, what it's like to be me right now, sitting here:

It's sundown.

I'm not wearing anything. It's a little chilly, but the bedroom will be warm.

I'm not wearing any toys, no dress-up, no shoes, no black lace, nothing.

Just makeup. I wanted makeup. A kind of ritual preparation, I guess. I started putting it on almost an hour ago. Not that I put a lot on, I just took a lot of care. It's meditation.

6:11

A fire is burning in the fireplace, for after.

Two glasses of red wine waiting, poured.

Cosy white terrycloth bathrobe waiting, for after.

My heart is beating like crazy, respiration up.

My hands are shaking, too. Deep breathing doesn't seem to help.

Jay is standing at the bedroom door. It's time.

-*-

I'm back, I lived through it. I had expected to wait until tomorrow to sit at the machine again, but I feel fine.

What it feels like to be me now, after:

A little tired. I pulled pretty hard against the restraints, but I think it was the apprehension that made me tired rather than exercise.

I'm wearing a cloudlike terrycloth bathrobe, white cotton panties and a panty shield. Fluffy slippers. There was a little blood, just a drop or two.

I can feel it Down There. I hope it's in exactly the right place, where I wanted it. I haven't looked yet. It feels right. Jay says it's right. I was thinking mostly about how this would affect our sex life, and I didn't really consider how it would feel when I sat on it. I'm going to be, well, _aware_ of it. Even after I heal.

Second glass of wine.

Jay standing behind me, rubbing my shoulders, reading these very words and I can tell he's about to kiss me on the neck. Hmm. None of that. It'll be a while before we can do that. How about some popcorn?

That is totally weird, talking to someone who's right behind you by typing on a monitor rather than with words. He didn't say a thing. I can hear him in the kitchen, getting out the popcorn fixin's.

All set. Popcorn is popping even as my keyboard chirps. That wine is starting to work. Here comes the big event:

I went into the bedroom where everything was set up. There were candles everywhere. We are creatures of ritual, Jay and I. He had a little high-intensity desk lamp to see by. Well, I wouldn't want him to miss.

He had planned how to restrain me beforehand. I won't bother you with the details, but if you read The List you'll know we have a LOT of leather straps and chains, spreader bars, eye rings around the bed, etc. Jay makes toys as a kind of hobby. In fact, I'm a kind of hobby, too.

I was in more or less the position I would be for a gynecological exam, except I couldn't move.

Which was good, because I tried.

He had elevated my hips on pillows to make it easy for him to work. It was at my hips that the restraints were concentrated. I couldn't move them much at all. Not up, back, forward, side to side, nowhere. Even when my back arched, my hips stayed put, more or less. We sort of field tested the restraints before going on.

My arms were stretched out toward the corners of the bed; he left my head and neck free, but I couldn't really see what he was doing. I kind of strained to see, but flopped back to look at the ceiling. There was a strap around my chest, above my breasts. No gag, no blindfold. I wanted to be free to scream. This sounds so silly for a simple piercing, I know. But I had to keep myself under control for my other piercings, and I think it spoiled the experiences. I treated this differently. I concentrated on the pain rather than ignoring it.

My heart was still going like crazy.

I thought a lot about this beforehand: rather than doing it as quickly as possible, I wanted him to take four seconds to go through my labia majora and then stop for a breather to see how I felt about passing the ring through.

Four seconds of pain: I practice-counted those four seconds over and over, imagining how I felt when I got my nipples done. Three seconds, I knew I could stand, so I asked for four. I had Jay practice counting four chimpanzees a few times while I imagined. I tried clothsepins Down There, too, just to see.

We had some rip-roaring nookie earlier, on the theory that it might be a while until we can again. Then I showered, washed well, scrubbed, in fact, douched, and just before he started, Jay swabbed my naughty bits with a topical disinfectant.

Oh yeah. There was music. We put on one of the Brandenburg Concerti. The 5th, I think.

He tied/strapped me down. That took him a few minutes. I was watching the digital clock while he worked. We had about three minutes to spare, and after he swabbed me with disinfectant, he sat next to me, just being near me until the clock read 6:29.

There is a setting on the clock that makes it show seconds, which he pushed. 6:29:05

He put on his rubber gloves and took his place between my legs. We both watched the clock. At the last second, we looked at each other. I nodded and he looked down to his work. I let my head fall back on the bed, took a deep breath, and stared at the ceiling.

I wasn't quite through with that breath when he started. I jerked against the restraints, trying to pull myself away, toward the head of the bed. I gasped when it started in -- sounds melodramatic, I know, but I did. That initial deep breath turned into a sound like a hiccough but longer. And not as funny. When I came to the end of the restraints, which was almost instantly, my back arched and I was trying not to cry out. I started making a little whining noise, a kind of "Nnnnn!" noise, getting ready to yell but still trying not to. I could feel it going through, and yes, it hurt. My toes curled. I tried to pull my knees together. I let myself go somewhere in the middle of the third second, just as he was finishing. I didn't really scream; just at the end I said "Ooooh!" but it came out kind of loud. If it had gone on a fraction of a second longer .... well, I was taking a deep breath to really let go when it was suddenly over. It seemed to hurt most just at the very end. That caught me by surprise, a little.

I kept my eyes open all the way through, looking at the ceiling, unfocused.

Suddenly, he was through and I was panting and starting to perspire, and it was only stinging, not hurting.

"It's through," he said. I knew, believe me.

Now I had to decide how much more I could take when he put the ring through on the end of the piercing needle.

"Two seconds." Pant, pant. "Do it now." I tensed for the next part, clenched my teeth, determined not to whine any more, but it was an anticlimax. That part didn't hurt.

It was all over.

7:50

Exactly one hour and twenty minutes ago, he was pressing Bactine-soaked sterile cotton against me and holding it for a minute while I got used to the idea that I had been pierced there.

There was something special about that moment. It was something I had missed in the piercing clinics and department stores, having that moment afterward to reflect on how I felt. I felt changed. I don't know how to describe it. I like to tinker with myself, change things about myself. Makeup etc. is just playing. This feels like a real change. Something real and permanent. I have changed my body. I can feel it Down There, being Not The Same, even while I'm typing. My nipples got erect in those moments after, thinking about the fact that I was changed. They didn't become erect during the piercing, when you would think they should have been cringing. Just after. And again just now, writing about that feeling of being changed.

He showed me the cotton that he had pressed against me. Just a little spot of blood. He started unstrapping, unbuckling, unclipping, unhooking, etc. etc. I felt great. I am going to be the focus of his attention for the rest of the evening. Fire in the fireplace, cuddles, dinner (fed to me piece by piece if I want?) .

The only thing left is to look at myself, which I haven't done yet.

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