Only a year ago the idea of genital piercing sounded about as appealing as pulling teeth without anesthesia or eating live tarantulas. I am (or was) the kind of person who faints after having their blood taken and gets queasy at the sight of a needle. I had the pleasure of making a close acquaintance of an individual with a pierced tongue; we shan't go into details, but it looked good, felt good - and the thought was firmly planted in my head. After half a year of working up the courage, last August I finally made it to Piercing Experience. I walked in terrified and ready to run for dear life, and walked out an hour later with a dopey grin and a new shiny toy in my mouth.
At A Glance Author anonymous Contact anonymous@bme.anon When A week ago Artist Brian Skellie Studio Piercing Experience Location Atlanta, GA The whole experience was so exhilarating and the toy - so much fun to play with, that I became interested in the subject and started noticing other people's barbells, rings and other built-in baubles. I think the idea of having my hood pierced first started sounding plausible after leafing through Hustler (shut up) and encountering many pretty decorated private parts. After that came female friends' personal experiences. Very normal, straight-laced, modest and not-so girls, blushing over their second or third beer, shared stories of spontaneous orgasms, intense sensations and feeling of naughtiness and freedom. After I managed to get my bloodwork at the clinic done without as much as a flinch, I knew I was good and ready.
Going to any studio other than PE wasn't really an option; between my own previous visit and some online research, I wouldn't let anyone else poke me with sharp and pointy objects. On a sunny Tuesday afternoon I ate probably the healthiest meal of my life, put on a dress with nothing underneath - for maximum comfort - and headed for the studio in the company of a friend who was getting an industrial. My mood was switching abruptly between "Oh my god I can't believe I'm doing this" and "Yes! Yes! This is going to be great!". Upon arrival, I filled out the paperwork with shaking hands and proceeded to circle around the waiting room, while Brian was sterilizing the bronze-colored barbell. He's quite possibly the most anal person I've met when it comes to sterility and safety, so I felt comfortable enough to ignore most technical details of the procedure and let the adrenaline take over. Both he and Sommersett, the second piercer at the shop, are very calming and laid-back, so after some more pacing and small-talk I stopped panicking and was looking forward to the experience.
When the instruments were ready, we went into the immaculate piercing room where I made myself comfortable on the paper-covered table. Brian kept talking as he was washing hands, applying gloves, mask, et cetera; his words were smoothly floating into one my ear and promptly coming out of the other, not registering in my cerebral cortex, but leaving me nonetheless more relaxed. To prepare for the impalement, he was massaging the area; I think there was more metal involved, but I was too excited and overwhelmed to pay much attention. Finally I heard the "breathe in and out" warning. On the "out", the needle went through my hood.
The one-million-dollar question: did it hurt?? Well, yes. It was not the sharp debilitating pain throughout my body, as I expected; rather, it was intense, very localized, powerful sensation right around my clit (a bit like being kicked), lasting literally a split second. The rush of hormones took over my body; the insertion of jewelry produced another wave of sensation, this time entirely pleasurable. At this point - oh, the indignity - I proceeded to giggle madly and couldn't stop for at least ten minutes. Brian quickly cleaned up the aftermath, so when I sat up to take a peek at my new adornment, it looked perfect. Mirabile visu. Eventually my legs stopped shaking; I felt high and happy all the way back to the front counter, through my friend's piercing and payment process.
Nothing is perfect under the sun; on the way home we stopped by CVS and I found myself still bleeding. Oops. The next two hours I spent applying ice pack to my genitals and not moving around a whole lot. The next day it looked bruised and swollen, but wasn't sore. In fact, I wasn't conscious of it at all until the swelling went down - which is when the fun period of using/feeling it started. The aftercare involved applying ice while it was still swollen, and heat later, allowing the body to heal itself. Works great and doesn't create hassle for us exceptionally lazy people.
It's been a week now, and it looks great; I take random trips to the bathroom just to stare at it (roommates probably think I suffer from diarrhea) and have to restrain myself from sharing the joy with everyone and their mother. I'd encourage anyone to get one - they're beautiful and sexy, fun to play with, and not a soul needs to know if you don't want them to. Good luck!