All the needlework, scratching, finger painting and photography shown here was done by Lady Lydia McLane of Seattle. My role was simply to lie there and scream periodically. That turned out to be an excellent division of responsibility. She did all the fine work you see illustrated below with her usual skill and grace. I screamed and moaned with my usual lack of stoicism or bravery.
These shots were actually taken towards the end of the scene, once all the needles were in place. The build-up to this point had been a gradual one, with Lydia using the needles to trace lines into my chest before sliding them home. Vivaldi was playing in the background and she used the little metal slivers as a conductor would a baton, dragging the points across my skin in harmony with the music.
The shot to the left (click to enlarge) shows the final arrangement of chest needles in place. There were twenty-two in total, ranging from 27 to 16 gauge. There were also a few more in the scrotum which, perhaps fortunately for viewers of a nervous disposition, we didn’t get pictures of. Out of all the piercings, the trio of needles clustered below each shoulder were probably the most painful. And rather than sliding each needle through in a single fast motion, Lydia would often pause and advance them only gradually, elongating the pain, stretching the moment.
The shot to the right shows me in a blissed-out state, enjoying the subspace and endorphin wash. Although I suspect my eyes being closed was as much a function of the burst of flash as it was my mental state.
I guess I should comment on the gas-mask you can see in these shots. Lydia originally started by using a duct tape gag, and pulled out the gas-mask only in the second half of the scene. I’m not at all a gas-mask fetishist. The material doesn’t do much for me, and I think they look kind of weird and alienesque. However, I have come to really appreciate them as a practical tool for D/s play. They work brilliantly for breathplay, giving very fine control over the intake of oxygen. And when they’re fitted with a hose like this one, you can plan fun games by sealing it against skin or clothes. Outside of their basic mechanics, they can also have a strong psychological effect. By limiting vision and surrounding the head it creates a sense of isolation, turning the submissives focus inwards. That can be a mixed blessing in someways. I like to see Lydia at work. It’s the dynamic between us that I enjoy, not just my private universe of sensation. However, the isolation can heighten the pain and make what glimpses I do get of her that much more rewarding.
With the needles in place the next step is of course to play with them. The next couple of shots show Lydia prodding, pulling and poking, eliciting exactly the responses from me you might expect. She’d shift from creating an intensely erotic sensation by rubbing the nipples to sudden sharp pain by dragging the skin sideways, pulling it taut against the piercings.
Removing needles is normally the least painful part of the proceedings. They typically slide out quickly and easily. However, this time Lydia took a more tortuous approach, pulling them slowly whilst keeping the skin tight. I forgot to ask if this was in order to get a better photograph, or simply to add to my suffering. I suspect the answer would have been ‘both’.
With all the needles out, the only thing that remained was a little finger painting with the blood that had flowed. Or, more accurately, the blood that had been coaxed out by Lydia tapping and rubbing each piercing. I was actually surprised when I saw the end result of this, as I didn’t think I’d really bled that much. For genital piercings I can often feel the blood running down my inner thighs, but in this case it hadn’t trickled anywhere.
The final shot show the results one day later. I think the red ribbons left on the flesh by Lydia’s conducting are quite beautiful. I periodically trace my fingertips across the raised lines, and it brings the memories of the scene to life for me once more. I picture her resting on my chest and delicately flicking her hand back and forth, a gentle smile on her lips. I remember the pain, the metal points stabbing and scratching, and I feel the happiness of the moment all over again.
