Pleasures of my flesh

I nibble my lower lip while the blade, cold and precise, gently penetrates into my skin and along my arm. My cock, raised like the arm of a young boy in a Hitler Youth camp, turns pink, creating a contrast with the white tiles of my bathroom. My hair bristles, my pupils widen, like my rectum, skinned by a pine cone stuck inside, creating crevices in my mucous membranes with each contraction of the gluteal muscles.

The dizziness brought by pleasure makes me see small stars moving frantically in the middle of the puddle of blood, which has now conquered half the floor space of the room, coming out of my anus. To top it all, I have the chance to admire the battlefield that is my body, as well as the trophies of my past sessions.

Raging trumpets scream through my stereo speakers. Over these several hours long improvisations, I contemplate the magnificent damage I've been inflicting to my own person for years now. The mass of scars on my abdomen forms a complex bloodred masterpiece, comparable to the first drawings of a toddler.

This life-size purple painting is my greatest pride. I admire it at every moment of the day, especially when I have to sit and that this delicious pain strikes me. I can then feel the punitive tightness that tears my nerves and provokes my passions. In the sink lie some of my teeth, torn without painkillers in a burst of excitement.

I haven’t eaten anything for several days, which amplifies the feeling of dizziness. The latter takes on increasingly enormous proportions. The last moments, the most beautiful and the strongest, make me tremble. I am ready to reach the ultimate summit, curled up on the bloodstained ground, near the toilet, mouth and eyes wide open. Life escapes my body, rewarding me with a feeling I have always dreamed of.

(2017)