The Genitorturers & my first piercings
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In '90 or '91, I met Ruth Less at the small private college I was attending in Florida. She was one of those people who, when you went out for an evening, you'd better have not have any pressing engagements for the next few days, because you'd need time to recover. She was involved with a band called the Genitorturers (If you haven't heard of them, I recommend that anybody interested in piercing/S&M/sexual depravity check them out. The internet is full of info about them). Ruth was part of their stage show. One Friday night, the phone rang just as I walked in the door from helping a friend celebrate her 21st birthday. It was Ruth. She said that the Genitorturers were playing in Tampa on Saturday night and asked me if I wanted to go. I'd seen them play once before, in Miami, and my mind had been blown--Live genital piercing and sadomasochism in front of a whole club full of people. So, as you can imagine, I said of course I'd go.
Ruth told me the plan was to drive to Orlando and spend the night at a friend's house that night, and on to Tampa the next day. In my inebriated state, I was up for anything, and before I knew it, we were in her car and headed west.
Ruth's friend in Orlando turned out to be a biker named Rut. Just as we pulled into Rut's driveway, he was putting the finishing touches on a new prop for the Genitorturers' stage show. It was a huge spinning rack. I got to be the "test victim." Rut and Ruth strapped me to the rack and sent me spinning head over heels. It was actually pretty fun. After my ride, I passed out on Rut's couch while he and Ruth drank bourbon and went out for a ride on his Harley. On Saturday morning, some other members of the Genitorturers showed up and took the rack away in a van. Ruth, Rut, and I headed toward Tampa in Ruth's car. On the way, we stopped to eat at a Bob Evan's. I felt very conspicuous in a family restaurant in the deep south, dining with a boisterous, six-foot tall leather-clad woman and a bearded biker sporting a heavy-gauge septum ring. Surprisingly, nobody stared--I think my companions probably frightened everybody too much for that.
We got to Tampa and found the club, where I met the rest of the band and some of their friends. The singer's name is Gen. Now that the Genitorturers are fairly big-time, I'm sure Gen makes a living with her music. At that time, though, she was utilizing her pre-med degree by working at the Florida Eye Bank, retrieving spare parts from cadavers.
Gen and Ruth asked me if I wanted to be a victim in that night's show. Not really knowing what to expect, I said "O.K." (Who could say "No" to two beautiful dominatrix-types?) I walked around the club, feeling cool wearing a backstage pass. I helped the band unload their van and hung out backstage while some other bands played. While we waited to take the stage, Gen pierced Marilyn Manson's navel and both nipples (remember, this was the early '90s and not too many people outside of Florida had heard of Marilyn Manson).
Gen and I discussed my part of the show. I was to be put in a small dog kennel on stage and covered with a tarp. During the third song ("House of Shame") Gen would rip the tarp off the kennel. Then I would be put on a leash and forced to crawl across the stage to the rack. Then I would be strapped down and spun. Then, Gen was to pierce one of my nipples. As this was only for play, the needle would be small-gauge.
Finally, it was the Genitorturers' turn to play. I was put in the kennel, clad only in my boxers and a dog collar. I was about as nervous as I've ever been. The cool thing, though, was that I could fully succumb to my feelings. I gave my full consent to everything before the show started, and once things got going, I was totally powerless. I was even supposed to resist a little, so unless I seriously freaked out or fainted or something, I was utterly at the mercy of Gen, Ruth, and the rest of the Genitorturers. In everyday life, I would describe myself as a "top"; Yet there I was, huddled pitifully in a cage, about to be humiliated and abused in front of an audience. Unlike regular S&M play, there were no "safe words." Though this experience didn't change my inclinations to be the dominant partner in a sexual relationship, I think I can understand the attraction of putting yourself completely in somebody else's hands, of giving up control entirely.
When the music started, somebody turned on a smoke machine, which began pumping smoke directly into my kennel. I had a moment of panic, imagining my family's reaction when they learned that their son and brother was asphyxiated during some kind of bizarre live sex show. Luckily, though, Rut was keeping an eye on things and redirected the smoke somewhere else.
The first two songs seemed to last an eternity, and at the same time, somehow seemed to be over really quickly. Gen whipped the tarp off the kennel as "House of Shame" started. Then, before I knew it, the door was opened and a leash clipped to my collar. I was glad that I could resist, if only half-heartedly. I was led across the stage and strapped to the rack. I kept my eyes shut tight as they spun me. When I stopped spinning, I opened them and looked out into the audience and saw a sea of faces staring in rapt fascination/horror. Gen and Ruth clamped clothespins all over my upper body, something which I didn't expect. Gen pierced my left nipple and then surprised me again by piercing the right one, too.
As the song ended, they unstrapped me, put the leash back on, and led me offstage on my knees.
At first, I was disappointed at the lack of endorphin rush which I'd been expecting. Then, a few minutes later, after I'd removed the clothespins and both needles, it hit me. I was standing there talking to Rut, and it was like a wave rolled over me, and I was high in a way I'd never been before. It put me in a kind of narcotic stupor and after pulling my pants back on I sat on the couch and stared at the two thin trickles of blood running into my waistband. The bleeding was superficial, so I wasn't concerned at all about it. After their set, Gen checked on me to confirm that I was O.K. I said I was and she told me I'd been an exemplary victim--She said I looked truly scared. I didn't tell her that I had indeed been terrified. Anyway, the rest of that weekend is a blur to me. I went to somebody's apartment where people partied into the wee hours. Not me though, I just sat quietly and enjoyed the slowly subsiding pleasure my body was awash in.
On Monday morning, I was back in classes, looking around and wondering what people would think if they knew what I'd done over the weekend.
I'm sure this account is too long, but I thought some of you freaks out there might enjoy the story of my introduction to piercing. It amazes me how mainstream and common body piercing has become in the less than ten years since my introduction. I think it's great! To me, it indicates that, at least in some ways, the human race is evolving by getting in touch with primitive urges.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 01 May 1999
in Nipple Piercing