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Blood Fetishes. Young and Old. Old and New.

Since I was about 11 and I was introduced to body modification I have been interested in every aspect of it. I have had many best friends who were into cutting and scarring their body with the many images the human mind could imagine. From hearts, to ex's names, the sky was the limit.

My best friend and I used to see how long we could go without cutting. If someone failed at the game, they would get a bitching from the other person. Of course, I was heavily into blood play and the whole cutting experiences. For some reason I thought inserting a sharp object into the skin and making the little blood droplets come out was fascinating.

When I was little I used to love getting hurt. I loved the stinging of the cuts and scrapes from falling or beating up on my brother. I used to pick the scabs off and squeeze the cut so I could see the blood droplets pop through the skin. Being little, I just thought this was a kid thing to do and nothing intense or serious.

In elementary school my friends and I used to take our folders made of heavy paper and purposely give ourselves paper cuts. Oh how I loved the stinking and the burning. I did this from about grade two to grade six.

As I got older, and being around people who cut, I got interested in both the practise and the feeling. I was always there for my friends who'd cut and what not because of painful relationships or just depression and deep down I had that little itch to do it not because I wanted to be like everyone else but because the little blood factor kept popping up. I loved the taste and I loved the look of it. When Id get a scab, Id pick it off and just watch the blood drip. When Id get mosquito bites I used to scratch them until they bled a lot.

When Id see the cuttings and the scars of peoples pictures or lines, fresh and old, Id always asked to touch and feel it. Nothing excited me more then running my finger down a series of horizontal lines on one's wrist or leg.

Finally one day I said to myself, If I have this much [I guess you can say fetish] of blood then why not do it to myself? And that is exactly what I did. Id cut anywhere with anything. Scissors, my nails, staples... I would bit my nails until they were sharp and jagged and I would run them along my skin or dig them in. I would purposely dig my nails into other people and make them bleed. Why? The simple pleasures of seeing someone's blood run down their arm.

I would cut anywhere, my wrists, my arms, my legs, my stomach, my inner thighs, which was my favourite spot. I would not cut for the depression, the sadness, and the hurt but for the pleasure. Yes I got sad and depressed and I would lock myself in my room but cutting did not relieve it for me.

I remember being about 15 and cutting too deep on my inner thighs and having to get some stitches. Same with my wrists. But when they healed, I would just cut over them again to feel the pain and the pleasure of the sharp object going through the many layers of skin.

With friends, we would see how deep we could go and how long we could make the cut go and how much blood fell from the cuts. We would sit in a circle and just watch each other cut. Everyone had their own story in why they did it.

I would get into fights and watch fights just for the bloody action that came out of it.

When I was introduced to the lovely world of sex, blood play came into it. Seeing pictures of play piercings and what not during sexual play made me happy inside. The factor of digging ones nails into the other person's skin gave me that tingly feeling. Same with doing that with biting and causing the slightest piece of skin breaking and watching the trickling of blood exit from it. My girlfriend has many scars on her back from my habits of digging my nails into her skin and pulling. However, she does not see it as a mutation or something to hide but a part of her. I have the same.

As a habit, I would always lick my wounds or the other person's wounds, because of also loving to see the blood drip, I loved the taste. Some people's blood was salty, others sweet.

Because of this, I am not encouraging people to go out and cut but to inform and to knowledge people that cutting is not just for depression or being hurt. There are tons of reasons why one cuts or even scratches pretty little designs into their body. Being 17 now, I do not cut anymore but the whole sexual aspect has become more and more intriguing to me and apart of my life. I still have the blood fetish and the wonder of the many more things that could come out of it.


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 06 Sept. 2006
in Ritual

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Location: Ontario

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