On Biting, Blood Sports, and Vampires

I originally created this blog entry a few weeks ago, but Blogspot unfortunately lost it before saving or publishing it. I will now attempt to recreate at least the sense of that lovely lost essay.

I never considered myself to be a person with an oral fixation; I dropped the pacifier and thumb sucking about the time I was potty trained; i.e. under two years of age. My sister, on the other hand, was still contentedly sucking her thumb until she was about six. Of course now I readily admit to having an oral fixation, but before I realized I was kinky, I never gave any thought to oral fixations…or at least, not much thought.

My interest in biting and being bitten came about in a very odd way. I was fourteen and I had control of the TV remote one evening. I was switching through the channels and not finding anything interesting. I turned to the Discovery Channel and they were having the biography of Bela Lugosi. I became instantly hypnotized by his voice and penetrating eyes, even though the pictures were mostly black and white. Before this moment, I had zero interest in vampires, Dracula, old movies, or Bela. That changed in the forty-five minutes I tuned in to this particular show. Over the course of the next year, I read Stoker’s Dracula at least three times and I was fortunate enough to see the 1931 film version with Bela Lugosi that year on American Movie Classics. By the time I was fifteen Dracula was a main character in my fantasies. Other vampires will come and go in these fantasies over the years, but good ol’ Drac is THE ultimate vampire, especially Bela’s Dracula.

You can’t fantasize about vampires without having a biting fantasy. I would lie in my bed in the dark imagining what it would feel like to be bitten and to feel teeth actually puncturing holes in my flesh; the double pinprick of pain and pleasure. Most of my fantasies revolved around being abducted and bitten (of course I was usually bound) or thrown into a coffin a deep, ancient crypt or being chased through a cemetery.

Things evolved into much darker fantasies as I became an adult and a severe depression that lasted until I met Kim, at least an eight year depression. During this time, I wrote my first sonnets, many of which are part of a large group of vampire sonnets. They aren’t perfect, but they improve as my understanding of the poetic form grew. Sometime I’ll find that notebook and work on revising them (there are at least 57 if I remember correctly). There came a point just before I started college in 1996 when I was absolutely certain I was invisible. No one looked at me or seemed to see me except my mom, the person I was taking care of and had devoted my life to. I was isolated and disconnected, not knowing the sensation of being cared for or seen. In order to make certain I really existed, I would occasionally bite myself or scratch or pinch myself, only stopping when I could see deep red indentations or that I had broken the skin. That’s when I discovered how soothing it was to be bitten as well as biting. I suspect now that this was my attempt at gasping for air; I was suffocating and dying and grasping at pain as a life preserver.

Biting still seems to be a life preserver for me. I don’t bite myself nearly as much anymore; almost invariably it happens when I’m stressed at work; confrontation makes me need an instant outlet; besides, biting has the added benefit of acting as a gag so I don’t say something that I’ll later regret.
Kim wasn’t into the biting thing. Other mouth things yes, biting, no. It wasn’t until I met M at UPEX that I realized biting could be a fetish and it could be fun. When C. and I first got together I think I became rather aggressive in telling him I wanted to try some biting. Thankfully, C. is very obliging when it comes to trying most types of play (still working on water sports and enemas though!) that I’m curious about. I really enjoy being bitten, especially on the neck, probably stemming from all those delicious vampire fantasies. Also, because for some reason being marked like that is somewhat of a taboo thing to me probably because of that whole “good girl” notion I grew up with. Some taboos are made to be broken!
Being involved in a leather community makes one aware of all sorts of different play one would not otherwise consider. Take knives and needles for instance. I would never have played with knives if I hadn’t seen M.B. and J. playing with knives and other than the random medical/interrogation/alien fantasy; needle play wasn’t on my list of things I wanted to try. Funny thing is, I’ve tried both of them now and I think I’ve developed a love for knife play and a dislike for needles. I loved the cutting J.C. gave me; to this day it’s one of the greatest scenes I’ve ever had. I loved the feel of the blood dripping and the blade drawing on me, opening me and leaving its mark. I loved the feel of the cutting as it healed into a faint scar (that needs to be reopened). J.C. also did needle play on me and it wasn’t pleasant. For some reason, there was a bad energy and feeling of vulnerability when we did the needle play. I felt like I was losing something I didn’t want to lose. I don’t regret the needle play, but I have wondered for a long time why I don’t have the same love of needles as I do for blades and cuttings. Sometime I’ll have to give needles another chance; undoubtedly, there will be a right time and place for it in the future. Besides, needles leave pretty marks.

I think that about covers my current thoughts on this topic. Since I am rather obsessed by this subject, undoubtedly I’ll be exploring and writing about it more in the future.