Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

I was dating a very strange girl
– not exactly what you could call sane – and the doctors didn’t!

Why I decided it was a good idea to start my explorations into the world of serious BDSM with her can only be chalked up to over-eagerness, blind optimism, and stupidity.

I do not remember how it started. I do not remember any details of the warm-up to the actual disastrous “heart” of the scene.

She had taken the mattress off the horrific metal frame they use in college dorm rooms, and stood the frame up against the wall. Then, absent any rope or knowledge of rope bondage, she went the very DIY method of bondage: duct tape! She taped me to the metal bars of the frame – my wrists at just lower than shoulder height, and my neck (at, well, neck height.)

Then, she got out a box-cutter, the kind with a razor on it. She teased me with the blade, and then she put it down. She got out a tube of KY jelly and put some on her fingers and then tossed the tube down on the floor. She fingered me for a while, and pinched my breasts.

Then, suddenly, she grabbed the knife and sliced her left palm open! (And she was a leftie!) The blood welled up fast, and she held the gash to my mouth! As a member in darkly good standing of the Gothick Brigade, there was only one course of action open to me: start gulping down the hot gushing blood!

Of course, blood is pretty … rich. People are not really meant to drink so much of it, no matter how much they like vampires. It might even make them … pass out!

And so I did. And immediately started to strangle on the duck-tape noose. She had tossed the razor aside, and now had to find it in the wall-to-wall horrific mess that was her room. Obviously, or I would not be writing this, she found it in time, and cut me down. I landed on the KY tube and lube spurted out everywhere, as well as the blood which was still freely flowing from her hand. I came to in a pool of goopy lubricant and cooling blood, not understanding how I got there.

Amazingly, we were just sane enough to know to call it quits for the evening. We ordered in Chinese food and surveyed the mess we’d made, and I think we thought it was kinda cool that we’d done such “hardcore edge-play.”

A very long list could be derived from this experience, Sir, of what NOT to do in a BDSM scene. But I think the main item which makes all others unnecessary, is: do not bottom to utterly inexperienced and not-too-bright Tops who can’t be bothered to take their psychoactive meds!