Sharps

The Photographer introduced me to needles a while back, and its taken me some time to compose my thoughts. It was a personal challenge - I'm not scared of needles, as such, however I do associate them with hospital visits, not being well and medical professionals being unable to find a vein then bruising my arms horrible. Junkie chic has never sat well with me. So I wasn't really expecting to get anything out of it, I was expecting it to hurt and that was it.

I lay down on my front, so I couldn't see it going in, partly so that I wouldn't know when to expect the pain, which would help me relax a little, and partly because the not knowing added to the excitement. I was certainly nervous, enjoying the feeling of trying something new, and of trying something that was pure sensation play rather than sexualised. First, he moistened the skin with antiseptic wipes, I like anything that has an air of preparation to it, it makes me feel pampered and looked after. Two needles were going into the flesh on the back of my neck. The pain was a lot less than I'd expected, mentally I think I was gearing myself up to something akin to my piercings. Instead it was a short, sharp little heat, one dart on entry, another on exit. Then a warm glow as the metal sat there, in my skin, snug as a bug in a rug.

The warmth spread, tingling and crackling as he lightly tapped them with his fingers. I felt myself go a little light-headed, nothing shocking or hyperreal - just a gentle sensation, like lying in the sunshine my nerves responding to this most soft of coaxing. It was very relaxing, nothing for me to do but revel in the way my body was feeling - I started to get turned on, domino-effect tumbling through my skin. It hurt again when he took them out, both from the pain and the release. Just a little loss, a little blood. Wiped up and cleaned, I went onto my back.

This time I watched as he put sharps into my breasts, above the nipple. Seeing the needles go in didn't actually have that much effect on how it felt, especially given that now I was no longer worried and in fact both eager and curious. This time it was a little shallower, but still gave the same pleasant buzz. He tried a few more, in the flesh just on my mons, the warmth creeping into my cunt and over my clit making me arch like a cat.

We didn't wrap it up in any particular D/s context, although I think it would be very interesting to try, perhaps some type of torture or collaborative art experiment. I can certainly see why it's a good thing to do in a club environment: the act of placing the needles, lining them up so they look as nice as they feel is certainly an art and I can imagine it's almost as fun to watch as to participate. Almost. Anyhow, we've stocked up on quantities of wipes and I'm looking forward to trying again.