Mad Blood Stirring by Daemon Fairless

Author:Daemon Fairless
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2018-03-06T05:00:00+00:00

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ZACK PUT ME IN TOUCH with his friend Tim. Tim is in his late forties. He’s an architect at a respectable Manhattan firm. He asked me not to use his real name. He worries that if his colleagues find out what he’s into, it would destroy his professional reputation. He’s probably right.

The first time Tim “juiced,” as he calls it, he made the mistake of doing it at his apartment. He didn’t realize how messy things could get, even with all the precautions. He and his partner had pushed the furniture against the walls. They had draped plastic drop sheets to prevent splatter and stains. They started out nearly naked, sporting the kind of briefs professional wrestlers wear. Tim had secreted on himself—I forgot to ask where exactly—a razor blade. They started out wrestling, doing their best to pull off sleepers and half nelsons and leg locks. Tim knows these moves. He has been a fan of professional wrestling since he was a boy. Even then, watching it on TV gave him a proto-sexual tingle. In high school he wanted to try out for the school wrestling team but was convinced he’d get a hard-on during practice.

Tim’s partner began to dominate. Tim stopped the action. He pulled out the razor and nicked himself just above the hairline the way the pros do, though not nearly as deftly. The first time, jacked up on adrenalin, he sank the blade in too deep. Soon he had a slick of blood running down the side of his face and over his sternum. He and his partner were covered in blood. Blood on the floor. Blood on the plastic sheeting. Drying blood, sticky in the creases of their necks and elbows. Blood like oil mixing with the sweat of their bodies. They stopped again and took photos of themselves. They started up again. Tim lost enough blood that he became light-headed. Eventually, the wrestling moves turned into close-quarter fondling. The nature of the struggle changed. The briefs came off.

For some, BDSM has little to do with a specific physical act—or any physical act. A friend of mine is a mild-mannered, middle-aged divorcee who works as a programme coordinator at a community centre. When he found out what I was writing about, he told me about his sex life on condition of anonymity. I would never have pegged him for the type. His relationships consist of short-term hookups he finds on S&M chat sites. For a while he was dating a woman who was an extreme submissive. One of the things that got her off was being forced to sleep in a large dog kennel and calling my friend “master.” She was able to reach orgasm, according to my friend, solely by being bossed around and verbally humiliated. In the end, this was too much even for him, and they split up.

It’s worth asking what’s behind these desires, the impulses and fetishes that fit under the umbrella term BDSM, partly because they represent the most common kind of sexual paraphilia.

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