At A Glance
Author	Jane66
Contact	Jane66@bme.anon
IAM	Jane66
When	Six months ago
Artist	Tails
Studio	Primal Piercing
Location	Edinburgh

Why a triangle
The moment I saw and read about triangles on BME, I knew that I wanted one. The problem was finding a piercer in the UK is who was prepared to carry one out and whom I trusted sufficiently to let the loose on my most delicate parts. During an earlier labial piercing I was told that I had plenty of room down there to get a triangle, but the practitioner concerned was not willing to take the risk. The more I read about the "in-use" benefits of triangles, the more I knew that I wanted one and the more frustrated I got about my lack of means to get one.

In May 2002 I met Allan (aka Bear on IAM) an in addition to falling hopelessly in love with him, I also got access to his tame piercer Tails. As our relationship progressed, we developed a plan to get highly symbolic genital piercings as a demonstration of our commitment to live together; an ampallang for him and a triangle for me. It was certainly more original than the traditional ring on the third finger of the left hand! By way of an interim demonstration of commitment to Allan and vice versa he had fitted me with a Princess Albertina, our slightly unconventional idea for an engagement ring.

Finally the day in September came, and filled with excitement and not a little trepidation we set off to see Tails. His place was located in the back corner of a shop selling, amongst other things, hoodies, lightweight bondage gear and coloured contact lenses. Tails was still setting up his room when we arrived, so we spent a few minutes more looking through the merchandise until he was ready. His room was tiny, it seemed small on the outside, but from the exterior you couldn't see that half the potential space was taken up by a walled-off area, that might once have been a toilet, judging by its size. This left an L-shaped space with barely room to turn in, which with three of us in there it was verging on claustrophobic. Tails discovered that he had left some of his supplies in his car, so we had another ten minutes of leafing through merchandise that we had no intention of purchasing, while he retrieved them.

The Act Itself
Eventually we were ready to go. I was a little surprised when Tails suggested using a local anaesthetic. Actually I hadn't much of a clue what he had said, it sounded like, " Hid uurn whooo weeear dusent tee fieel t'feerck dooown thuur," but fortunately Allan was able to translate for me. I'd been led to believe it was a good thing to be able to feel where the clamps attached, to make sure there was no risk of damaging the nerve bundle that supplied the clitoris. However I am an errant coward and had no desire to experience any more pain than necessary. First Allan dropped his trousers and sat on the tiled ledge at the back of the room while Tails sprayed his penis with xylocaine. Then it was my turn. I perched precariously on the shelf, which was slightly narrower than my backside. Tails asked if I had ever had a bad reaction to xylocaine, since it causes considerable irritation in some people. Of course I had never used local anaesthetic with a piercing bef ore, so I just didn't know. The spray was initially cold then started to sting and burn almost unbearably, before fading away. While he continued spraying Tails suggested that he'd be very happy to pierce my clitoris for me. Well actually he said, "Hoo darlin yooo cald geeit ya clit dun, a'l doo it noo an yooo'd haff thoosuns o' ooorgassums," Had Allan not been five feet away, I might have been moderately taken aback by his effrontery! We were sent away for half an hour, while the anaesthetic took effect, just time to have a coffee and a cake while indulging in adrenalin fuelled random conversations.

We went back at the allotted time, giggling like teenagers. Allan had his marriage jewellery installed first and you can read about it here. Tails worked very quickly and it was all I could do to get a couple of record shots of the procedure, before Allan was all packed away again, wrapped in swathes of cotton wadding. Now it was my turn. I lay back on the tiled ledge as best I could, bearing in mind its relative width compared to my hips. I lifted my left knee up and moved it as far left as I could, walls allowing and let my right leg hang off the ledge. I couldn't really see anything of what was happening due to the proximity of walls and Allan, who in order to get a view of proceedings in the narrow space, was partially leaning across me. There was a brief discussion between them about where the piercing was to go. I was still at this point expecting to be clamped and was bracing myself for that when Tails went through with the needle. Whereas the xylocaine had done an admirable job of numbing my labia and clitoris hood, it appeared to have made little impact on the deeper nerves. It hurt. A deep and surprising pain that above all else felt like it just shouldn't be there. A few seconds later it was all over, the jewellery, a 1.6mm barbell went through without problem or further discomfort. I redressed and all three of us stepped out of the shop for some air and a surreal conversation.

Repercussions
It was a few minutes later when the pain started, on the walk back to the car I was aware of a distinct level of discomfort in my nether regions. Part way through the drive back town, it had revved up to full-on excruciating. An intense burning sensation, throughout my genitalia, like pin and needles, but stinging as opposed to tickling. Every change of gear, every moment of my foot from the accelerator to the brake brought fire to my pink bits and tears to my eyes. Normally I am glad, verging on proud, that I drive an old and temperamental Italian sports car. Just then I'd have killed for a mundane, low rev-tolerant automatic. The sensation was not located near the piercing, but centred on the inner surface of my labia and indeed all other mucous membranes in the region. It appeared I was one of the unlucky people who have a reaction to xylocaine. As luck would have it, the inflammation died down in about the same time-frame as the journey across town.

By the time we got back to Allan's flat I was almost able to walk. Not yet like a normal person, but at least I was able to make sedate, if rather John Wayne-like progress up the two flights of stairs, and that's John Wayne with shockingly distended and aggravated haemorrhoids after 96 hours in the saddle. I collapsed on the bed, legs akimbo, and waited for the last embers of my own personal genital fire to die back. Then I took a look at my triangle for the first time. It was a long way off being straight. The right hand side was about the right depth under my clitoris, but nearly a centimetre too far south while the left hand side was approximately the correct lateral position but was way too deep. Significantly, if I brought my left knee up as far as it would go and lowered my right leg, the position in which I was pierced, it looked just about straight.

The End
Healing was straightforward. I was a little delicate for a couple of weeks, but nothing too bad. About six days after I had an exploratory fiddle and everything seemed to work ok, though to be honest, it didn't feel any different to before. After six weeks I swapped the barbell for a CBR, which went some way to disguise the crookedness. My plan was to gradually increase the gauge of the piercing and to see if I could manoeuvre it into a better position. Stretching was an interesting experience. The exit hole of the piercing went down the centre of the top of my vestigial inner labia. Getting the taper through the main part of the piercing was easy enough, but squeezing it though the length of my tiny inner labia was really painful. It took me the best part of three hours to get it stretched enough for a 2.4mm CBR. Unfortunately a few days after the stretch, my labia rebelled and I had to go back to the 1.6mm ring.

I abandoned the idea of stretching my triangle and decided to just live with it as it was. It was pretty enough, though crooked. However instead of stimulating me, it tended to get in the way during sex and I seriously considered getting re-pierced if the opportunity arose. Then one night Allan and I had an exploratory attempt at vacuum pumping and I removed my triangle since it was getting in the way. I was unable to re-insert it that night due to some rather pleasant swelling. By the following morning the swelling had subsided, but I was still unable to put the ring back. I had mixed feelings, I missed my triangle for its symbolism if not its effects. A few weeks later Allan pierced my clitoris, re-establishing the bond, but that is another story.

Do I have any regrets? Well yes and no. I do wish I'd spent more time making sure the piercing was in the right place to start with. In my defence I got caught up in the excitement of it all. And yes, I am still curious to know what a correctly positioned triangle feels like. I guess I am just greedy.

If you are logged into IAM, you can see a picture of my triangle here. Its taken in the one knee down one knee up position!