Never trust your lover with your breasts
My date with scarification: The few details that still remain perched
somewhere in my subconscious have been related to me many times; each in a different format (u get the abridged version, lol). Especially the part about the massive level of "stupidity" it must have taken for me to do or allow this to be done to me. I still find it kind of awkward but interesting to tell my current lovers about my 'beauty marks.' Unlike key chains and old photos, my scars are the one souvenir I can never really lose. I cant justify or rationalize; I may only attempt to explain what happened that night.
Some time ago, I let my guard down at a social function and
found myself lit and willing to experiment. I recall three bottles and too many glasses emptied on my behalf. But it was a party, and "When in Rome..." You know the way it goes. The body count was high, the joint was hot, and I was the happy hostess. Even though it wasn't my party, I was more than happy to oblige; Im a happy/sociable drinker. Before bottle number three, the last thing I remember clearly was a bowl of Cheetos and my lover playing with a strand of barbed wire. My lover, J.C., is a 'Body Modification Messiah' in his own mind. I will admit he was good, but I am biased, of course. Take Billy Gunn (WWF) and add purple highlights to his hair. Now, add a 8 gauge tongue ring-two eye brow rings-nipple rings, plus sleeves consisting of dragons and lotus blooms-a neck tribal- along with a Jesus tattoo on his right shoulder and one of Satan on the left shoulder. Toss in a lust for experimentation and that is JC. A silver tongued devil with a adventurous lust for that gray area where pleasure and pain collide and coincide. Lord only knows what he has done since the last time I saw him.
As the party wound down, a few select friends followed J.C. and me into
the back for a lil Truth or Dare reality check. In recesses of the parlor, we sat and discussed what we wanted most among the many pathes of body art. Appointments were made, designs were discussed and challenges were placed. Im a pain addict; I cant deny that. And if I am informed I can not handle or do something, I will do it or die. Twenty past three AM, my time for truth came: "How much can you handle? What is your tolerance for pain?" Being the smart-@ss that I am, I said I would try anything once; twice if Polaroid's were not involved. That little line singed my warrant. Bottle three came and went, and there I was ready to be had. I lay enthralled with anticipation and way too much tequila. I was about to receive what my lover called a "Burning Ring of Fire." He held the strand of barbed wire he had been playing with over an open flame and taunted me. I did not believe he would do anything to me and he did not believe I would let him do anything to me. We were at a stand still, or for me it was a lay still (lol). Our friends looked on with sheepish grins as they played with their own razor blade fantasies (A couple in the corner, months later, talked me into burning an Egyptian eye just above my navel). Primed to go, JC leered over me as he (oh, so thoughtfully) sanitized my breasts. I still thought he was bluffing and was caught off guard as he smiled at me wickedly he asked me why I was falling out of my chair. In the midst of trying to regain my posture (that I had not actually lost), he lurched forward, wrapped the barbed wire around my breast and yanked it as if applying a tourniquet. I was about to scream when he kissed me hard and poured alcohol on my breast. (This is where my friends have come in handy) I passed out after the kiss. After ten minutes of panic and a cool wash cloth, I was revived and able to 'admire' JC's handy work. He had marked me with a dozen bloody, ruby red wounds; like a bouquet of dripping roses. I didn't know what to think, but I knew that it was a far cry from the gray area between pleasure and pain. But oddly enough, what little bit I can truly recall, was more than orgasmic. I babbled about bright lights and bubbles (so says Candy, but she cant say it with a straight face, so I don't know?). After a few gulps of rasberry coffee ( I had a craving, so sue me), I allowed JC to do the other breast. I now have two 'lovely' rings to remind me of JC and that night. But far too many jokes about them from the seven friends that were present. :oP
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 17 March 2001