Note: This blog is a work in progress. Let me know what you think thus far, though. Thanks for reading!
As I take that breath, it seems as though my senses have become that much more acute. At the very least, I am becoming more aware of my surroundings. The sterile alcohol-stench of antiseptic. The feel of leather cuffs holding my shaking limbs firmly in their place, and of the non-slip surface of the examination table supporting my weight; it's plastic-like coating beginning to stick to my now-naked back.
I look to my right and see an assortment of implements; most of them innocent enough in their own right; all of them easily put to sadistic, nefarious purpose.
And I hear...I hear the pounding rhythm of twisted music in the air, ducking and weaving in and out of sync with the rhythm of my beating heart. It beats hollow in its cage, and the ensuing pulses reverberate and echo in my head.
I'm taking in the realisation of what's about to happen.
I'm pacing up and down the narrow walkway by the gas station. I don't smoke anymore, but I feel that in this case, I should make an exception.
The rapid puff of sickly fumes being expelled from my lungs and the repetitive marching of my feet are the only things that give any indication of my nervousness. As far as everything else is concerned, I am the epitome of a confident, dapper young man. My shirt and trousers a shade darker than my eyes, trenchcoat hanging loosely about my shoulders, and snug-fitting Doc Martens to boot.
Very soon, Visionary and Amazon will be here to pick me up, bundling me into their white van, in which we will travel the meandering stretches of road, to a place well off the beaten track. Tonight, I am proud to rendezvous with that deviant couple, Lord Sin and Lady Debauchary - therein lying the reason for my anexity.
Not that I am particularly against indulging in carnal desires, but the thought of that which constitutes societal taboo makes my blood positively race around the fleshy canals which house it.
I'm pacing up and down the narrow walkway by the gas station, when a white van pulls alongside me. Reason tells me not to get in, but I feel that in this case, I should make an exception...
Pain floods my chest in a similar manner to blood flooding from an open wound - the focal point of which is an insertion underneath my right nipple; the culprit needle working its two inches upwards, underneath my skin. Spots appear before my eyes and I hear blood rushing in my ears; my heartbeat hammering against its cage and against the inside of my skull. I fight to maintain a steady, controlled exhale, yet I make no sound. Only the clenching of my fists gives any outward sign of my physical discomfort.
As suddenly as the pain begins, it starts to change. It does not cease or diminish (far, far from the latter), but my perception of the sensation wavers. It is no longer something to be fought against, as evidenced by my unclenching grip. I begin to embrace the feeling, as endorphins wash through my body like the tide on a moonlit and untouched shore.
I have become comfortably numb.
Just, not so numb.
***
Breathe in. Relax.
I inhale a deep lungful of air; but I'm taking in more than mere oxygen. It may be able to give you life, but it doesn't have the power to make one live.As I take that breath, it seems as though my senses have become that much more acute. At the very least, I am becoming more aware of my surroundings. The sterile alcohol-stench of antiseptic. The feel of leather cuffs holding my shaking limbs firmly in their place, and of the non-slip surface of the examination table supporting my weight; it's plastic-like coating beginning to stick to my now-naked back.
I look to my right and see an assortment of implements; most of them innocent enough in their own right; all of them easily put to sadistic, nefarious purpose.
And I hear...I hear the pounding rhythm of twisted music in the air, ducking and weaving in and out of sync with the rhythm of my beating heart. It beats hollow in its cage, and the ensuing pulses reverberate and echo in my head.
I'm taking in the realisation of what's about to happen.
Breathe out, slowly. This is going to hurt.
***
I'm pacing up and down the narrow walkway by the gas station. I don't smoke anymore, but I feel that in this case, I should make an exception.
The rapid puff of sickly fumes being expelled from my lungs and the repetitive marching of my feet are the only things that give any indication of my nervousness. As far as everything else is concerned, I am the epitome of a confident, dapper young man. My shirt and trousers a shade darker than my eyes, trenchcoat hanging loosely about my shoulders, and snug-fitting Doc Martens to boot.
Very soon, Visionary and Amazon will be here to pick me up, bundling me into their white van, in which we will travel the meandering stretches of road, to a place well off the beaten track. Tonight, I am proud to rendezvous with that deviant couple, Lord Sin and Lady Debauchary - therein lying the reason for my anexity.
Not that I am particularly against indulging in carnal desires, but the thought of that which constitutes societal taboo makes my blood positively race around the fleshy canals which house it.
I'm pacing up and down the narrow walkway by the gas station, when a white van pulls alongside me. Reason tells me not to get in, but I feel that in this case, I should make an exception...
***
Breathe out, slowly. This is going to hurt.
Pain floods my chest in a similar manner to blood flooding from an open wound - the focal point of which is an insertion underneath my right nipple; the culprit needle working its two inches upwards, underneath my skin. Spots appear before my eyes and I hear blood rushing in my ears; my heartbeat hammering against its cage and against the inside of my skull. I fight to maintain a steady, controlled exhale, yet I make no sound. Only the clenching of my fists gives any outward sign of my physical discomfort.
As suddenly as the pain begins, it starts to change. It does not cease or diminish (far, far from the latter), but my perception of the sensation wavers. It is no longer something to be fought against, as evidenced by my unclenching grip. I begin to embrace the feeling, as endorphins wash through my body like the tide on a moonlit and untouched shore.
Are you ready for another?
I have become comfortably numb.
Just, not so numb.
