Monday 16th July
Fuck. What a weekend! Fetish week was great. Saw all your mates, got loads of dick. Humm, you should probably book in at the clinic... Still, so fucking good. But ugh. Work this morning. Bed was cozy. Still best move your ass and get in...
Tuesday 17th July
It's only Tuesday? Fuck. And you're horny again. Not even been a week since Decon. Maybe a wank will help. Looking around on your phone, there is a guy on recon. Cute smile. Something about him but can't put your finger on it. You cruise him. Then bed.
Wednesday 18th July
Wednesday. You're awake too early though. But half way through the week. You check your phone. The guy from last night, he wants to fuck, this evening. Sleazy fucker wants to play raw. You're down for that. You message back enthusiastically. It's sorted.
Work is dragging and only 10am. Still, messaging that hot fucker is helping. He's into loads of the same stuff as you. He is gonna wear some chav gear and a mask when he fucks you tonight. And he's told you exactly what trackies and trainers to wear.
Finally you're out of work! Dear God those meetings dragged. Who cares about all that social influence crap. Anyway, you need to rush home and get ready for this evening. Grab a snack, clean out and head over to his place. Better not be late he said.
You got to the guys house and let yourself in as instructed and locked the door and went into the room you were told. Fuck. He gets down and points you down to his trainers. You don't need telling twice. You get down and start licking. They stink of spunk.
He pulls you off his soaked tns, grabs you and throws you in the sling. Before you know what's going on, he's cable tied your hands to the chains. Tight. It's uncomfortable and you can't move. Then he's torn a hole in your trackies. The fuck? 'Shut up cunt'.
Next thing you know he pulls his trackies down, gobs on his raw cock and rams it in you. You're soon being brutally fucked until eventually he cums inside you. While he shoots you hear him mutter something, but you can't make out what. Not english...?
But who cares. You got the fuckers load. He grabs a knife. What The Hell? He cuts the cable ties and drags you out the sling. Before you have time to woke out what is going on your outside his house.
The massive hole in your trackies obvious.
Your mind is spinning. You've got a walk home with a massive hole in your trackies. Across town, everyone is gonna see. And that knife, fucking hell for a minute there... But damn, the trackies, the mask. And his raw load. Fuck, so hot. Best get walking.
Shit. Everyone is looking at you. A couple of people sniggering. Just get home... ... And focus on clenching. Don't wanna waste that spunk.
You get home and crash to bed. That was a fucking evening. You settle down, still full of his spunk. Checking your phone before you sleep, he's messaged: 'See you soon' Guess he enjoyed it too. Hardly said a thing though. Other than, what was it...?
Thursday 19th July
You bolt upright in bed, jumping awake. Dripping in sweat. Him. His masked face and talking, but you still don't understand what he was saying. A nightmare. Just a nightmare. You check the time. It's just gone 3am. Far too early. Back to sleep.
Aside from the nightmare, you've been sick three times with blood. The fever is insane, you're dripping with sweat but feel so cold. Your whole body aches. No work for you today, drag yourself to the doc. Hope you've not given whatever it is to him.
You make it down the doc. It's already crowded with little old ladies. How the fuck do they do that? Motorised zimmer frames? You register and they tell you to take a seat. You sit away from everyone and no one comes near. You look like shit. Waiting...
Your head is spinning and your feeling worse. Can't just sit and wait. You stagger up to the reception desk, everyone looking. 'I... I don't feel so good...' You collapse and pass out.
You wake up in an ambulance. There is an IV in your arm and the thing is beeping. You hear the sirens and panic. 'It's OK, we're getting some fluids in you and getting you to hospital' says the Paramedic next to you.
You come to again, your on a hospital ward. You already know that, you've been in and out of consciousness all morning. The IV, the beeping. A Doctor nearby comes over. 'How are you feeling?'
'Yeah, shit' you reply.
'Your bloods show your body is in shock, but we haven't picked anything up yet. Have you taken anything?'
'Drugs? Hell no!' you say back.
'Sorry, I had to ask' The doctor keeps talking.
You feel woozy. Then you see his mask. The guy from last night.
How the fuck can he be here?! You look again, and it's just a normal guy walking past, not even anyone you recognise. The doctor gives you a funny look.
Great, now I'm hallucinating you say to yourself.
Then you're gone again...
You’ve no idea what’s going on, one minute your conscious, the next you are gone again. In the moments you are awake you keep thinking you see the guy with his mask on walking past. Sometimes he is looking at you and talking, at one point he said see you soon.
A doctor comes over, seeing you are awake.
‘Hello there. We’ve had some further test results back. I can’t dress this up, things are not looking good, your organs are showing signs of damage and shutting down. We’re still running tests and doing everything we can, but is there anything at all you can tell us?’
‘What? What on earth? No, I was fine until this morning. What’s going to happen to me?’
‘We’re doing everything we can to stabilise you. We’re just about to transfer you to intensive care.’ replies the Doctor.
‘But, I don’t understand.’
‘I’m sorry, I wish I could give you more answers. We’re doing the best we can for you’.
As the Doctor walks off, he speaks to two porters who wheel you out of the ward and down the corridors, the florescent lights flashing past above you.
They soon get you to ICU and you’re handed over to the ward staff, who soon have you wired up to all the machines.
No sooner do they get you settled you slip away again.
But you still hear. The life support machine makes a continuous noise.
‘He’s crashing, get the team here!’ someone yells.
You open your eyes, and realise it’s you they are talking about, but you are outside your body, watching what is going on. A defibrillator is changed and then shoved on your chest, your body spasming before you.
Still the machine makes the continuous noise, just like on the TV.
You watch as they do it again, and again. Injecting drugs. Your body in front of you not responding to the chaos as they try to save you. But nothing is working. After some time, they agree to stop and declare you dead.
‘But I’m still here!!!’ you yell at them.
But they are unable to hear you.
You try to grab them as they walk out the door but you can’t touch them.
‘Help! Help! I’m still here!’ you yell, and then begin sobbing to yourself, but no tears fall down your cheeks.
You try to run after them, but to no avail, you can’t seem to move more than a few feet from your lifeless body.
Then slowly, as if the sun were setting it starts getting darker and colder, until all is black. You don’t know if you are asleep or not. You have no sense of where you are and no feeling. Just black around you. You must be asleep, maybe it’s all just another nightmare.
You see something in the dark. You must be awake. Probably at home, but there’s none of the lights of home. No light from around the windows, or coming under the door. Where are you?
The something starts getting closer, you can see it’s bathed in red light, as it gets closer you realise it’s the guy from last night, in his trackies and mask again.
‘You… What the fuck is going on?’
‘I told you I would see you soon’ he replies.
You melt at his voice, there is something about him that is so fucking hot. Then you realised, he didn’t speak in English, but that you understand him.
‘Well, yes, you did. And I’m here. Now what’s going on?!’ you demand to know.
‘You really don’t know, do you? Interesting. Well you were the fastest yet to join me. I must be getting stronger.’ Almost pondering aloud to himself. ‘But yes, you, well, you’re dead obviously. You remember that much?’ he asks you.
‘Oh, I was hoping that was just a nightmare’
‘A nightmare. Your nightmare hasn’t even begun. Your dead, and you’re going to join my pets.’ He laughs. ‘A Demon has to do something for entertainment. Finding fresh meat and bringing it back livens up eternity a bit. And it’s so easy now you all use these apps. Desperate fools.’
‘What on earth, that can’t… it’s not real?’ you stutter.
He clicks his fingers, and the darkness falls away and you are both standing in a cavern of red rock, there is a throne in the middle, and human bones scattered around. Everything is bathed in a dark red light, but there is no light source.
‘When I fucked you I was incantating, my seed in you finished the work. Usually it takes a few days to get to work, but well, I have been busy lately.’ He grins.
‘Wraiths!’ He yells. ‘Take him away’. He turns back to you, ‘Don’t worry, they’ll fuck you up until you are more attractive to me. I’ll enjoy your screams. See you in a few hundred years…
The distorted human forms appear and grab you with their bony hands and drag you off in to the dark, while you kick and scream to no avail…
Wednesday, 4 July 2018
Having HepC sucked.
Being told you have it sucked, treatment sucked.
Headaches, sleepless nights and fatigue were the worst.
Being told made me feel sick.
It was doing a usual STI check up, I got the call from the clinic, not the feel good text. I thought it was going to be gonorrhoea. I called back, the nurse explained in a normal every day voice, no nicey nicey here. Boom! Tears, in the middle of the office. I had to wander off. I didn’t expect this at all. Not one bit. I was asked of it was unexpected by the nurse. I felt sick, that, fall to the floor hands in head sick. I felt so dirty inside. Having been told I was HIV+ would have been easier. Of all the things I dreaded catching was this. This was the worst.
Numerous studies demonstrate that the prevalence of hepatitis C is higher among the population living with HIV (particularly among MSM) than people who are do not have HIV. The greater likelihood of coinfection with hepatitis C is they are more likely to have sleazy raw bb sex. You know, the really hot kind.
HepC treatment has come a long way, its very expensive. However, it doesn't stop you getting it again, you don't become immune, and there are different strains which require different treatment. Currently the NHS allows 1 treatment per person. Before they are willing to give it to you. They asses you for eligibility, such as willingness to changing your behaviour (giving up drugs).
While I won't be talking about sharing needles or straws as a cause for infection, which hopefully is a given. Some extreme (well.. extreme to some.. pure bliss to others) sexual activities pose a risk.
Unlike HIV which is very fragile outside the body, HepC is a fighter and can survive potentially up to forty-eight hours outside the body, even in dry blood. The risk of sexual transmission is debated, but it is generally accepted as being very low – much lower than many other identified transmission routes for hepatitis C, that said, fisting isn’t your usual sex now is it.
• The highest risk sexual activity is unprotected fisting. Damage to the cuticles (skin around the finger nails) is very common, as is damage to the lining of the rectum.
• Sharing tubs/bottles of lube or sex toys is also risky. The hepatitis C virus is fairly robust and can survive potentially up to 48 hours on the surface of a sex toy or on and in a tub/bottle of lube.
• Irrespective of whether you are top or bottom, it is possible to contract hepatitis C through unprotected anal intercourse - due to tearing.
This means to us fist pigs, probably the biggest risk we take, even when wearing gloves, is grabbing the other persons lube bottle by mistake, or 'just use mine' you know, when someone makes it too thin or they run out. We worry what’s inside the glove when we need to be conscious of the outside too.
Used gloves should be taken off and tuned inside out but tie them off for good measure.
A few small changes in behavior and we really can reduce the risks to yourself and others.
- Before it was discovered in 1989, hepatitis C was called “non-A non-B hepatitis”.
- There is no vaccine to protect against hepatitis C.
- There are no disclosure laws around HepC, sexual partners are not obliged to tell you.
- Around 25% of people will clear the virus themselves. If that doesn't happen, you can choose to have treatment.
- The virus can only be transmitted by infected blood. Not cum.
I got though it. But I learnt a lot. I play pretty much the same as I used to, only I'm such more aware of where my hands go with bottles or gloves, I don’t play raw handed. I don't do drugs anyway. I'm much more aware of my play scenes.
This post is a guest post from a follower who wanted to talk about their experience of HepC.
Sunday, 24 June 2018
It was a dark winters night. I left my hotel and walked the short distance to the club. I queued up. It was cold and dark, but at least it was dry. There were a few guys in front of me, the queue was moving slowly, but bags were being checked and guys were getting in. After a while it was my turn. I didn't have much in my bag, just a rubber jock, top and hood. Quick check, pay my fees and then I was in.
I quickly took my trackies off and put my rubber on, checked my bag and then headed straight to the darkroom. I needed to let off steam and tonight was the night, I'd been looking forward to it. I found an area where I could put my head down and ass up for anyone to breed me. I put my hood on and waited.
Before too long it started getting busier and my first fuck of the night pushed into me. Bareback of course. This was one of London’s sleaziest club nights, not that there's that many left these days. He fucked me, shot a load and moved on. Only moans were exchanged, no words and talking. I ended up changing positions a few times and bent over a metal bar at one point. The guys kept coming and fucking me and unloading in my ass. As the club got hotter and the music pounded I needed to take my hood off. After load four I needed a drink.
I headed downstairs to the now full club, with a few guys in rubber gear, but a fair number of the crowd in jocks and harnesses. I didn't care how people were dressed, or even what they looked like in the dark. I just wanted breeding. I went to the bar and got a coke. It was a bit cooler than the dark room, the break and drink was needed, but I wasn't done for the evening yet. I went back upstairs.
It was busy but I managed to get my spot back. I got back in position and a guy came behind me and started fucking me. He complained I was tight, I was most indigent. I'm a fist bottom, how the fuck can I be tight? I focused on breathing and he dumped a load and then wanted me to suck him clean. I know the rules of barebacking and happily complied. I then had one guy give me another fuck and then I decided to call it for the evening. I'd taken six loads and it was about 2am and the darkroom was unbearably hot. I got my bag, threw my trackies on and then went back to my hotel room. I had a cup of tea to decompress from the evening and get the noise of the club out my ears, then settled down to sleep with loads of anon spunk in my hole. A good result.
The next day I needed the toilet in the morning I rather exploded. Sometimes a day or two after douching it messes my bowls up so I didn't think much of it. I checked out my hotel and headed home, had a lazy evening and then went to bed at a sensible time, I had work the next day.
The Monday morning I exploded again, I figured it was just douching aftermath. But at work I kept needing to go to the toilet rather urgently. I took some Imodium (I usually keep some in my wallet, fist pigs tend to have certain things to hand in case) and got through the day. After a few days I noticed it wasn't really settling down, so I made an appointment at the clinic thinking I'd better get checked out. It took a couple of weeks to get the appointment, and by this time I'd had to take a few days off work as my guts had been so bad. I had an almost constant feeling of needing the toilet and had bad dialarhoea. I also booked a doctors appointment as I figured I should cover that base too.
The clinic appointment came and I told them what I'd been up to and my symptoms. They asked if I could do a stool sample but by the late afternoon time of the appointment my guts had evacuated themselves and I couldn't produce anything. Though sometimes there was just mucous when I felt I needed to shit my guts out, there was nothing. I did the butt swaps, bloods and urine. All the results came back negative. I didn't understand, something was up.
Fortunately I had the doctor appointment as well, that was first thing in the morning and I took a fresh sample in this time in a plastic bag and put that in the pot. The doctor told me I was doing right by making sure I was drinking enough. Told the doc and the clinic I was being careful and not bottoming etc while this was going on. After a few days the sample came back. I had shigella.
That was an answer that made sense. I went back to the doctor and picked up the antiobotics. Great, I thought, take the tablets and get this sorted. I was getting sick of my guts exploding. I'd literally have to plan my days and travel around access to a toilet and it just felt unpleasant, having a sensation of needing to shit all the time. I took the tablets and finished the course, but things still didn't feel right. Then came the letter from environmetal health. Yep, Shigella is such a big deal because it is so easily spread. I was as honest as I could be on the form, but it was basically 'good luck tracking down 6 anon guys from a darkroom.
Time was passing. It was January. I went back to the doctor and they did another sample. Results back, I needed different antibiotics. I went in, got those and took them. Just as I finished the course, I moved up to Manchester.
But after the course things still were not right. I didn't understand it, I'd taken all the tablets as I'd been told too. I went to my new Doctor in Manchester and explained what happened. The doctor got my records up and found the lab results. Turns out it wasn't just shigella, it was antibiotic resistant and the lab had recommended another set of antibiotics if the others didn't work. The doctor hadn't even heard of them, he said that if the lab said I needed those, then he would trust the lab. "I don't care, give them to me" was my reply. I was desperate to end this. My guts had been in turmoil for some 3 months by this point.
As well as the daily discomfort it had now wrecked my sex life. I hadn't been able to fist bottom for sometime, and I was being super careful not to put playmates at risk. I was mostly just fist topping. Which was fun, but I was missing getting my hole abused.
I got the antibiotics and took them. I figured they must be a fairly nuclear option, so I expected to have some problems after. When I finished the course, things got better. I didn't have the feeling of needing to shit all the time. But my shit was still loose and sometimes there would be mucous. Back down the doctor...
We had a talk and he got me on the table and pushed and felt my stomach and guts. He said it sounded like I had post infection IBS, which could take anything up to a year to settle down. I was crushed. I missed getting fisted so so much. But I knew the risks I was taking when I played in that club, but I didn't expect shigella and I did not expect anything to cause this much fallout. It must have been the cock I sucked, the guy must have been in someone infected before me. It's easily passed from ass to mouth. I then decided would not be sucking dick or eating ass at clubs again. Not worth the risk of me not being able to fist.
But now what? I got myself some strong probotic tablets from Holland and Barret. A friend with IBS sent me an article on foods and drink to avoid. I cut down on onions and garlic, I was already avoiding chilli, I reduce the amount of milk in my diet using oat milk or coconut based milk in coffee and smoothies. I also reduced my drinking, I cut out beer and reduced the amount I drunk in general. Slowly, the tables turned and my stomach started stabilising.
By the end of May I started playing with toys again, and then in June I was able to play in Alert and take a fist. Things are still very hit and miss, and it’s frustrating when things play up. I know it will improve with time. Meanwhile, it helps that my playmates are being understanding on the off days.
I really hope you don’t come across Shigella. It’s really nasty. If you have extreme diarrhoea after sex and it doesn’t settle after a day or two, please get down the doctor or clinic and get checked out. It’s important for your health and to stop it spreading.
Have fun, be safe, and look after each other.
Wednesday, 4 April 2018
Headspace in BDSM is an amazing thing. The clothing, activities, sensations and language allows people to transport them and themselves to difference places. It can range from playing dress up and the imagination of a scene through to deeper levels of headspace where the mind almost shuts off and goes silent as euphoric states are reached through the release of natural chemicals such as endorphins.
Given a range of levels of headspace, there are many ways into headspaces: gear, sensations, dirty or trash talk, imagination and acting out a fantasy or a combination of all of these. It usually occurs as a gradual descent into this place as a scene progresses until people are ‘there’. I've mentioned before about the experience of fisting and how it seems to link your mind with you hole. However, headspaces in scenes don't always go to plan or come together. Maybe underlying stress or daily issues prevent you from relaxing totally into it, or the scene doesn’t come together the way you had in your head and the details jar at you. Sometimes the fantasy isn't what you wanted after all, and when faced with reality it needs to just stay fantasy. Any number of things can stop the fantasy turning into reality on the day and stop you getting to that special place.
Recently I was being a fist top for a “dirtier” scene shall we say. The bottom was all good and was enjoying the fisting and working over. However, we had spoken about adding some layers of play on top of this, but when the situation came up, my head wasn’t in it and I couldn’t get there. I didn’t make a big thing of it during the scene, I carried on playing with the bottom and made sure they had a good scene and was able to give them their first punch fisting. They certainly got to a new headspace and discovered what an intense fisting session can do for the mind. I enjoyed taking them there, but I felt somewhat unsated and frustrated with myself.
After the session I focused on the sub, gave them the aftercare they needed to come down from the sensations and plenty of contact. Then we cleared up, not an insignificant task after that kind of play, and then settled down for the night.
Experience has taught me that when playing I don’t have to do everything that was suggested and negotiated. Indeed, for the bottom they had made a real achievement and was ecstatic with their progress which I shared in. However, afterwards I needed to work through my frustration, and decided that with the sub in such a happy state they were not the best choice for it. I did however check in with the sub and make sure they were ok after the session.
While sometimes we can process things on our own, often it is useful to talk. I’ve said about the importance of communication and sometimes after a scene it is useful to debrief and go through things. On this occasion I spoke to some friends. They reminded me that it is ok for things to not always come together. Next time I will make changes before I play and I hope that will help me get there. But sometimes we just need to accept things for what they are, and this occasion was probably one such time.
However, on reflecting, by carrying on the scene and giving the bottom the experience, things were still very, very messy. So the session would probably be beyond most people’s limits and up in the top percentiles of disgusting scenes. But when you play in such areas sometimes that isn’t quite enough. But it’s ok not to get there every time and to build on the experience, make adjustments, and try another day.
Wednesday, 10 January 2018
I’ve written before in other articles about how the BDSM archetypes influence how we perceive kink and can shape how we try to be as dominants and submissive. For me as a dominant, I don’t really identify that much with the archetypal dominant of the leather daddy type with full leathers, boots and cigar. For those that do, that’s perfectly fine, and a good thing!
However, there is an idea that this archetypal Dom is infallible. They are always right, all knowing and are able to dish out exactly what the submissive needs at the right time. Unfortunately, the reality is somewhat different. As a moderately experienced Dom, I am not infallible. I make mistakes, I fuck up and I don’t always handle my subs the right way at the time they need it. And do you know what? That’s ok. What is important is as the dominant how you handle that.
I’ve fucked up in scenes and made mistakes and hurt people. It’s not fun to be on the end of doing or receiving. There was a session with Rook where I was using a new electro box, and when telling him to expect a tingle he got a full power blast – my previous box reset after powering off, the new one didn’t. I turned the box off immediately, removed the electrodes and apologised to Rook. This is key, I didn’t pretend it was intentional, I didn’t make him feel like I had done it deliberately to cover up and protect my ego or Dominant image, I made a mistake, dealt with the consequences and owned it.
I see and hear of too many “Dominants” who think that being dominant, is of itself all that is needed to be a Dom and to own and control others. It isn’t. Not by a long way. As well as being dominant, you need the skills to apply BDSM but more importantly you need empathy and to respond to your submissive. They should be the one driving how you dominate them. To my mind a successful Dominant/submissive dynamic is one that is collaborative and based on honest and open communication. If one side is imposing their will on other without listening, then disaster is inevitable. I’ve deliberately said that both ways, as a pushy bottom can be as destructive as a pushy top, in undermining the dominants ability to control and their confidence.
And herein lies the myth of power within BDSM. The image is so often of power over, the Dom having power over the submissive, total control, making them do whatever they please. Yet the truth of good BDSM is that it is power with, collaborative and a journey together.
I’ve seen other Doms question about caring and whether that forms a large part of being dominant. For me it most defiantly does. If you are not doming someone with care and affection, then why are you doing it? If it is solely for your own pleasure and not the submissives as well then you are straying back into the territory of being a “Dominant” and relying only on that.
That said, with a sub I will sometimes nudge or push them to do things just for me as part of a scene or a weekend. Often, I will make a sub make or fetch me drinks, maybe run out and grab me breakfast. Sometimes a sub is reluctant to do this, but if as a Dom I ask something (reasonable) I expect it done. I have often gone to great lengths to plan a session, may well have traveled for it, and I expect a sub to pull their weight! But the key to that is it will be a very small part of what has otherwise been collaboratively negotiated.
The real trick of being a good Dom is about balancing the power dynamic, about making the sub feel that they are not in control and that you are making and forcing them to obey your will, but actually you are using their responses and feedback to gauge how much control to apply. This is far easier with playmates that you have known for a long time. I always start slow with new playmates and would much rather have a number of sessions that are “tame “and go well to build on, rather than have a new session throwing everything at it and pushing limits, where the sub ends up safewording and I then have to support and deal with the aftermath of my creation. Play the long game and take you time, build bonds, trust and communication and then you can slowly work on going further from a successful base.
The other dimension to this is the emotional and managing relationships, boundaries and forms of friendship and love when connecting with people on what can be a deep and primal level. However, this deserves its own time but again, it is not always something I get right.
I am a fallible Dom, and that’s ok. But be honest, open and communicate.