My first sexual cutting
For a long time now I have been struggling with the sexual aspects of my life. Being bisexual and having non-mainstream erotic fantasies, specifically blood play and cutting, have not always been major parts of my sexual character. The duration of my sexual livelihood has been consumed by fuzzy memories of meaningless vanilla intercourse followed by an overwhelming feeling that I had just been used by someone I had absolutely no connection or attraction to in the first place. This had made me bitter and apathetic towards sex and people in general. It is only within the past year that I truly began thinking about why these feelings and experiences were continuing to plague me. Up until then I had separated myself from a great deal of sexual activities and became somewhat asexual in order to avoid the things that had thus far disappointed me. As I began branching out socially, I discovered new sexual ideas that deeply intrigued me. The notion of pain and blood as a form of erotic pleasure stood out in my mind.
Two nights ago I was at a horror convention in NJ doing promotional work for a small special effects make-up company. Since my role as a make-up model was to promote the company I was transformed by, I was talking and socializing with anyone and everyone who merely looked in my direction. The production company that had a display table next to ours was manned by two guys that ended up connecting with our crew during the evening festivities.
Throughout the evening I spoke a lot about piercing and scarification because these were things that people automatically associated me with. One of the guys from the production company and I had a strange yet comfortable bond with each other almost automatically. He took me aside that night and showed me his scarifications. He explained how the cuttings were things that came to him on a higher level beyond fashion or aesthetics. He also admitted that he didn't share his marks or spirituality with almost anyone, yet somehow felt drawn to me. Still having remnants of prosthetic glue and blue paint on my skin with my hair cemented into a horror-esque style, I had never thought I would have someone become physically and spiritually attracted to me.
I told him how I enjoyed the pain of being pierced and cut (among other things) and admitted my desire to engage in blood play. We did not think that the company we were in the presence of would understand this shared sexual desire of ours, so our conversation became increasingly more exclusive as we discussed what we would like to do to each other and the logistics of such a situation.
First and foremost our main concern with each other was health and safety. I'd say a good part of the planning was safety alone. Once both of us were truly satisfied with where each of us had been and our most recent blood test results, we discussed where the best place would be for us to cut each other. Obviously, it had to be place that would not be barged in on, and a place that blood could be easily cleaned up from. By this point our whole group was hanging out in the hotel room of one of the make-up artists. I suggested that we go back to the room I was staying in. When we got to my room, we went into the bathroom and closed the door. I grabbed a brand new straightedge razor from my bag and jumped up onto the counter. I sat facing him with my legs spread apart. He asked me where I wanted to be cut. I lifted the knee length black skirt I was wearing up to my hips and told him to mark my thighs. As he knelt down to be face level with my thighs, he looked up and said "I hope you know that I am not going to have sex with you tonight." I responded, "I hope YOU know that I don't expect us to either." As much as we were both extremely turned on, we knew that this experience was not about having sex. What we were about to do was form of sexual ecstasy in itself not to be lessened by any other stimulation or action. First he cut a gash into my left thigh. It was a little deep and he watched it bleed for a moment before he mirrored the cut onto my right thigh. The feeling of the gentle stroke of the blade made my genitals throb. As blood began to drip from both marks I leaned my head back and moaned in pleasure. He went back and forth cleaning the blood up with his tongue from both legs, and continued to do so until the bleeding had nearly stopped. He stood up and gave me the razor. He took his shirt off and told me to cut his chest. I put two diagonal marks onto his pecs starting from the sternum and angling out diagonally, almost parallel with his ribs. I was extremely turned on and fascinated as I watched his cuts drip blood. I began to lick his wounds. As I sucked on his chest I could feel him breathing heavy; breathing almost as if he was having slow, passionate sex. Once his bleeding slowed, he put his shirt back on. We stared at the blood one each others mouths as if we were both starving and had honey on our lips. I asked him if I could clean the blood off of his lips with mine. We kissed more passionately than anyone had ever kissed me before. He grabbed me tight as I put my head on his shoulder. We embraced each other as I thought about everything that just happened. I knew that this is what I needed to do. This is what was going to make me feel connected, alive, and most importantly, beautiful. Yes, the marks on my legs made me feel beautiful. I saw him briefly the next morning and was able to say good-bye. We exchanged e-mail addresses and promised to keep in touch. Thinking about our intimate exchange makes me happy. My first sexual cutting was the best erotic experience of my life. It makes all of the meaningless acts of my past insignificant. I found a special calling, and I am no longer afraid to hide my desires.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 10 July 2007