vampire stories . . .

THE BLOOD BLOG
by Alex Severin

Subject: Switchblade Kisses... [ 10th Jul 2004 | 1:20am ]

[music | Zeromancer - Need You Like a Drug ]

[mood | Lustful ]

I started self-mutilating fairly early. I was 12 years old - in fact, it was on my 12th birthday.

Self-mutilation quickly became my religion - it is my God, it is my faith, my redemption, my salvation. Self-mutilation and the purge it allows me, the release it gives me, is the method I use to cleanse myself. It’s similar to the Victorian obsession with leeches and bleeding, I reckon. It isn't that different. Self-Mutiliation is just the modern (well, not so modern, really) equivalent of a sadistic old doctor with a well-used, battered, black leather bag and a jar full of ravenous leeches. I'm sure this neurotic, highly-strung woman would have been a regular visitor to such a doctor had she been around in that era.

The way I like to do it is very regimented.

My ritual goes like this -

First, I must be stressed to the point of screaming, which, in my line of work (psychoanalysis) isn't hard to reach. If I am stressed to that extent, then the release I obtain from the cutting and bleeding is all the greater.

Everything has to be set out just so. I always shower first and swab the area I am about to cut with an antiseptic solution.

[SAFETY IS ESSENTIAL, PEOPLE! IF YOU INDULGE IN BLOODPLAY, PLEASE STAY SAFE, K?]

The room must be warm and I must be naked. There must be the flickering light from many black candles that cast long, dark, languid shadows on the walls that look like lovers basking in an after-glow embrace. I must sit on the edge of my bed, in front of my full-length mirror. I run my hands over my body, caress my warm sensuous curves and feel the goose flesh rise on my skin at my own skilful touch.

The blade I use is a surgical scalpel blade, sterilized and safe inside hermetically sealed packaging.

One of my favourite places to cut is around the edge of my areola. I make a tiny incision around the top edge of my nipple and I watch in the mirror as the trickle of blood makes its way down over the stiffening bud and I can feel the heat of my own spill as it travels slowly over my flesh.

My breasts are large enough that I can bend my head forward and lap at the blood with my hot tongue. The taste of that piquant metal is like a pristine-pharmaceutical head-rush. It makes my eyelids flutter and my heart beat faster. It makes my breath come in short gasps and it makes me wet. It makes me, sometimes - just sometimes - wish I had a permanent significant other here with me to share in my ecstasy.

If only *somebody* could make me feel the way I feel when I cut.

If only *somebody* could make me feel the torrent of pleasure the red bliss fills me with.

If only.

Lovers come and go but my scars are forever.

Love & Razors...
* The~Blood~Bitch*

Comments -

From | Bastard_Nihilist | 10th July 2004 | 07:18am
Oh great, *just* what we need - another fucking mopey, tragically-gawth bitch who cuts herself and bleeds in public about it. I’m so stoked. I’ll be back here real soon to pour over your every word whilst wanking myself into a stupor at your perfect purpleness. Not. Please die quickly and quietly.

From  | Kinder_Horror_666 | 10th July 2004 | 9.47pm
Welcome to JiveJournal Blood~Bitch! This place is really cool, but some of the residents are assholes - just like any neighborhood. 

;-) 

I’m looking forward to reading more of your posts.

From | *Princess*Dark*Raven* | 11th July 2004 | 6:57pm
hi i cut 2 i love the taste of my own blood i’m hoping 2 find a donor soon kids at school all think i am weerd i don’t care i like it i hope i can find an immortal vampire 2 embrace me and bring me over 2 the darkness when i am older but not 2 old cuz i dont wanna spend eternitey lookin all old adn rinklee do u no where i can find a reel vampire

From | *The~Blood~Bitch* | 11th July 2004 | 8:48pm
Oh, Lordy! If I did know a real vampire, I most certainly would not inflict you upon them for an eternity. Regardless of how old you are, your spelling, grammar and lack of punctuation and capitalization are appalling. An eternity of posts like that would drive me to slash my own wrists... the right way. And I don't mean for pleasure either!

From | mindyourown.goddamnbusiness@motherfucker.com | 11th July 2004 | 11.17pm
You sick fucking bitch. You better knock this shit off pretty damn fast or I'll make sure you do, personally. That's a promise, by the way, not a threat. I ain't playing either; I'll fuck your shit up if you don't do as I tell you.

From | *The~Blood~Bitch* | 11th July 2004 | 11.42pm
Yes, sir! I shall cease and desist at once because you, a man so brave he will not sign his name, tells me to. Oh, yes, yes, indeed, I shall stop immediately. You are the lord and master of blogdom. I must comply, forthwith. Mmmmyes.

You'll fuck my shit up, will you? And what exactly does fucking shit up entail, pray tell? Is that some sort of paraphilia? Does it involve masturbating with my faeces? How bizarre. Maybe you should come see me on a professional basis. Sounds like you're in need of a little therapy, mister.

;oP

Shouldn't you be in school at this time of day, sonny?

From | ~BloodLover69~ | 12th July 2004 | 5.01am
Your blog is wonderful. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. It’s beautiful and I know exactly how you feel because I feel the same way.

I’ll be back here soon to read more!

[music | Carfax Abbey - Ketamine ]

[mood | Contemplative ]

Blood is an acquired taste and not everybody who has the urge or the desire to try it out for their self likes it once they have indulged. Some people over do it on the first occasion; blood is a purgative so if you ingest too much whilst losing your vampiric virginity it will more than likely make you vomit, or at least feel terribly nauseous. Go easy on your first trip out to paint the town red.

Blood.

The smell.

The texture.

The taste.

The combination of wet and dry, sticky and hot, when you rub it between your fingers, over your lips, into your skin, is interesting, exciting, sensual. The very stuff of human life; it is what pumps through our beating hearts and carries itself to our vital organs, carries oxygen to the brain, it is what clots to save us from losing to much of that precious potion should our skins be breached by accident or by deliberate force or by act of God.

The blood is the life.

The sharpness - that hit of bitter metal that itself feels like a blade, then turns to warm, liquid honey as it slides luxuriously down your throat.

Blood is God and God is bleeding.

The first lick is fast - just a taste, a tiny ambrosiac morsel that makes you close your eyes and smile. It calms and enflames all at once.

And then you drink.

You drink deeply.

And then you kiss. Hot mouths pressed so hard against each other that you can feel their pulse throbbing in time with yours, blood and saliva mixing and running like red wine, staining crisp white linen like a first-time fuck.

God, can there be a drug in existence that could give me the rush that drinking blood gives me?

Love & Razors...
* The~Blood~Bitch*

Comments -

From | InSaneCloWnPoSseFan5842 | 12th July 2004 | 10:29am
sick bitch u r insane

From | SonjaBlue86 | 12th July 2004 | 11.56pm
Hell yeah! :o)= You should write a book of this stuff! I’d buy it!

From | ~BloodLover69~ | 13th July 2004 | 11.27am
Wow. What can I say? You write beautifully, Blood~Bitch. I’m gonna go wake my husband up and read this to him.

Thanks for sharing.

Blessed Be.

From | GothicRuin | 13th July 2004 | 1.40pm
I remember my first time. It was just like you described it. And the fantastic thing is, that every time is like that. Every time feels like the first time. Drinking blood gives me the same head rush too. I certainly couldn’t go too long without doing it. Every couple months I have to have some or I get a little cranky.

[music | NIN - Starfuckers, Inc. ]

[mood | Dark ]

OK, this entry is about WOMEN BLEEDING FROM THEIR NETHER REGIONS. If that’s offensive to you, for gawd’s sake, don’t read any further. You have been warned. Don't let the screen door hit you in the ass on your way out.

Right, now that they’ve all gone, and since I’m a hormonal, bleeding bitch today, we’ll talk about sex and menstruation.

Personally, I love sex when I’m bleeding like a stuck pig. The sensation is different. It’s drier, therefore the friction is much more pronounced. I love the heat of that friction. It makes me a little bit sore for a couple of days, but the pleasure it gives me is worth the discomfort.

Going down. There's nothing quite like your partner going down on you when you're bleeding! It's especially good if they have a bloodfetish too. Their moans of pleasure are a further turn on - it's as if they are partaking of a ripe and exotic fruit, the juices flowing over their lips and down their chin, and then they kiss you. Oh, God, when they kiss you and you can taste the potency of your own hormone-soaked blood in your mouth from theirs, it is quite simply heavenly.

Love & Razors...
* The~Blood~Bitch*

Comments -

From | MuddledMindGirl | 13th July 2004 | 5.56pm
Wow. You're very lucky. I can't get my boo to come near me when I'm on my period, never mind go down on me. Bastard.

From | GothicRuin | 13th July 2004 | 8.22pm
I'm lucky. Both my boyfriend and my girlfriend love bloody sex. You should try it with more than one blood fiend at the same time. If you can angle your pelvis correctly, one can tongue-fuck you while the other sucks your clit. It's fucking amazing! This blog rocks, Blood~Bitch! I'm so glad I found it!

Long may you reign!

From | mindyourown.goddamnbusiness@motherfucker.com | 13th July 2004 | 11.15pm
You sick fucking cunt. Somebody should cut your head off and stump fuck
your neck, you twisted bitch. I hope you get aids and die.

 From | *The~Blood~Bitch* | 13th July 2004 | 11.58pm 
My, what an unusual name you have, Mr. Motherfucker.com. And your eloquence 
is quite staggering. Somebody should nominate you for the position of Poet Laureate.  

Oh, and I've shat scarier pieces of shit than you.

From | mindyourown.goddamnbusiness@motherfucker.com | 14th July 2004 | 7.59am
You got dick, bitch! You better watch your fucking mouth or I'll shut your shit down. You and your type are spreading this filth all over the net and giving us real writers a bad name. It's a good job you don't got no talent or some idiot might take you seriously. Don't make me give you my undivided attention, you fucking whore. You wouldn't want that, believe me. I know some important people.

From | *The~Blood~Bitch* | 14th July 2004 | 9.55am
"...don't got no talent..."

Quite. I would agree that I 'don't' got 'no talent' and that double negative indeed confirms you recognise my enormous gift. Heheheh!

"I know some important people."

Medication time. Medication time. Pass the horse tranquilizers, will ya?

You should be on the stage, dude! You're hilarious!

LOL!

[music | Anathema - Lost Control ]

[mood | Aggressive ]

OK, it's not *exactly* a Bloodplay subject per se, but to me it is related in the sense that the whole point of changing one's flesh - be it via tattoos, brandings, scarifications, piercings etc- are a modification of the body and, Bloodplay, the result of a Bloodfetish is the modification of the inner self, the id, the ego, the quiddity. The act of Bloodplay alters the state of one's emotions, just as the act of modifying the body alters not only the physical being of the modifier but also the spiritual essence of the modifier also.

Some body modifiers report having what they classify as a religious experience when having a procedure done. These procedures, be they invasive or surface, are generally carried out with no anaesthesia and therefore there can be severe pain to be endured. We all know that pain makes our brain release chemicals called endorphins and adrenaline - the body's natural pain killers - and that the release of these chemicals can create a feeling of euphoria. Couple that natural high with the elation that one is changing one's own body, modifying it, making it new, turning it into a work of art in constant progress, one that will never be completed and always ongoing, and you have a formula for not just a body-changing experience, but also a life-changing experience.

I am a body modifier.

I have had 20 procedures done, none of which are visible when I'm wearing my ordinary daily clothes - a nice fitted business suit I sit in and get creased every day while I'm listening to my client's neuroses and psychoses, listening to them pitching a bitch and freaking the fuck out about this, that and the other. Not one of them would ever, ever, ever guess that I am constantly changing my own body. Neither would they guess that my constant fidgeting and leg crossing and uncrossing is not a sign of a nervous disposition, but me breaking the monotony by making the ball ends of my labial piercings rub against my clit.

I have one client who is a body modifier also. He tells me that he does not like what he had done to his body and I asked him why on earth does he do it then? He told me that he was compelled to do it because he hated himself, he told me he did it because he 'felt dark inside,' and he thought that was what people who were 'dark inside' did. Fucking, please. Dark inside? What the fuck does that mean? Dark inside. Really.

He went on to tell me that he hated the pain. He hated the way his (minor) modifications looked and felt against his skin, especially since he has an aversion to metallic objects. (Don't ask. I didn't.) He told me that he could not stop these trips to his local BM studio even although he hated himself after he did it and always swore that the last time would be the last time.

Now, this is an interesting scenario for a psychoanalyst. Quite fascinating. I put it to him that he was using the trips to the BM shop to punish himself for whatever it was he felt he'd done that he shouldn't have. I asked him to go back through his memory and find what it was he did that he was punishing himself for.

He didn't even answer me. He left with a smile on his face, pumped my hand furiously and thanked me about a hundred times. He said that he understood now. I'm glad someone did. I never saw him again after that.

Anyhow, that little ditty aside, the reason I have had several body modifications done is quite simple - I fucking love pain and I love the way that my body looks different and is constantly changing. And it has never been about self-hatred for me- quite the opposite, actually. It has always been because I love myself. I am not vain. I do not mean that I think I am beautiful or special or any of that, just that I am comfortable in my own modified skin. My modifications are like a gift to myself, something I do when I think I have reached a goal, when I have achieved something, something I do when I think I deserve a treat. My next treat to myself is going to be a corset piercing. If you don't know what a corset piercing looks like, go here -

http://www.bmezine.com/pierce/11-surface/A40629/high/iam00040162.jpg

Pain gets me off more than anything in the world. More than any meaty stab. More than any fist-fuck. More than any tongue-on-clit action and finger-fucking ministrations, or any other sexual act you could care to name. Nothing, I repeat, *nothing on earth* can make me as wet or as hot as pure, unadulterated pain, the undiluted pain, the fucking pristine-clean agony of the pain that comes with body modification.

Sins of the flesh cannot compare to the act of changing the skin you are in.

Nothing. In. The. Fucking. World. Like. It. Period.

Take a nipple piercing, for instance. When you feel that deep kiss of cold steel mosquito clamps pressing the flesh on your tit together you know that the pain will come soon. You know that the hollow needle is imminent, the keen stab is coming, and then the rush of adrenaline and endorphins hits you like a loving fist in the gut, and then the euphoria kicks in.

Another shiny new piercing to add to your collection of beatific modifications is complete.

When I leave the BM studio I feel like a goddess, a goddess who's naked body glints in the candle lit gloom when I stand naked in front of the mirror. My body is a celestial body, a body that shines like a star in the night sky. My body is a temple and if you are allowed entry to my inner sanctum, then you must worship me.

You got that, motherfuckers?

:o)=

This will be my last post until next week; I'm heading off for BodModCon in Seattle which runs from Friday until Monday. I'll be doing a lecture there on Body Modification.

[Note: There are dozens and dozens of lectures and presentations over the con week so you won't know which one is me and if you come up to me and ask me if I have a Bloodfetish blog on the internet, I will of course look at you as if you have 17 heads, bad breath, and a booger hanging out yer nose, K? K.]

Love & Razors...
* The~Blood~Bitch*

Comments -

From | mindyourown.goddamnbusiness@motherfucker.com | 14th July 2004 | 6.55pm
I'll see ya there, cunt. You want pain? I'll give you pain like you've never dreamed of. If pain gets you wet, I'll make you die screaming my name, bitch.

From | *The~Blood~Bitch* | 14th July 2004 | 9.29pm
Oooooh! You certainly know how to sweet talk a girl - I am already wet with anticipation. Not.

:o/

You couldn't fucking handle me. I eat tiny penises like you for breakfast, with a side order of pussy-ass motherfuckers. That's the sort of talk you understand, isn't it?

Go play with somebody your own age before I take you over my knee and spank you, 'lil bitch.

Go on. Run along now.

Shoo, fly, shoo!

From | mindyourown.goddamnbusiness@motherfucker.com | 14th July 2004 | 9.31pm
You're gonna wish you hadn't tried to make a fool outta me. Don't like guys, huh? You're gonna like them even less when I get done with you, you bull-dyke, pussy-eating cunt.

From | *The~Blood~Bitch* | 14th July 2004 | 9.46pm
"bull-dyke, pussy-eating cunt"

What an absolutely charming turn of phrase. Are you a writer? How gifted you are. And yeah, I do eat pussy, but I also suck plenty cock too - especially ones with a big silver Prince Albert skewering the head. C'est delicieux, Monsieur Motherfucker.com!

But *you* will never have me so get the fuck over it, alright?

Oh, and judging by the time on my last post and the time on your post, you must be sitting there 24/7 re-loading the page, hanging on my every word. Awwww, bless.

You've got it bad for me, don't you?

LMFAO!

From | mindyourown.goddamnbusiness@motherfucker.com | 14th July 2004 | 9.48pm
You're fucking dead.

From | mindyourown.goddamnbusiness@motherfucker.com | 20th July 2004 | 12.02pm
I told you I was gonna shut that cunt up. And I did. She expired long and hard and didn't so much like the sorta pain I gave her. Yeah, you heard me right. I killed that dirty pussy-eating cunt.

From | *The~Blood~Bitch* | 20th July 2004 | 12.24pm
"I killed that dirty pussy-eating cunt."

Really? Wow. Which dirty pussy-eating cunt was that? And don't knock it 'til you've tried it.

Not sure what you've been up to but whatever it was it wasn't with me. And talking of fucking people's shit up, my stats tracker automatically logs IPs. Oh, and, nearly forgot to mention - I have a node tracker too. You live in a tiny little trailer park in BFE.

If you look out your window you'll see one pissed off fucking bitch standing there at the end of your drive.

Bend over, little doggie, you're about to get royally fucked. I'm strapping one on right now.

Never fuck with a fucker, asshole - you'll end up getting fucked.

Love & Razors...
* The~Blood~Bitch*

© Alex Severin 2004