“Remeber your promise at the cottage?” Andrew* reminded me.
“Yes” I replied.
“I found the perfect place downtown. They are well recommended, safe and clean. Are you ready to go get it done?”
“Yes” I simply replied again. But I smacked my own forehead and wondered to myself “What the fuck did I do??”
I am a grown woman. A professional in my industry. And I am getting my tongue pierced?!
In Tongue Tied I had promised Andrew that I would pierce it for him. I was excited but filled with dread. It would hurt. It was a bad idea. How could I hide it? What would my family think? What would my dentist think? Dear God … what would my colleagues think?!
But I had made him a promise. And I was going through with it. My secret sexy side was totally digging this bad girl addition. Andrew talked non-stop about how oral sex would feel … and to know that he had that much control over me.
One bright, sunny Saturday afternoon, we made our way to Queen St. W. in downtown Toronto. We had lunch at a cool eatery, shopped at the local sex stores … Andrew picked out a school girl outfit for me. Clingly white top, very short red plaid kilt, white thigh-high stockings to go with my 5-inch stripper heels. He stuck his fingers up my skirt right there in the aisle when I came out to model it. Another man watched while Andrew tasted his fingers. We are bad.
I had butterflies flitting around in my belly. Nervous about the pain, the possible complications, but most of how I would blend this bad-girl blip into my good-girl world.
It was time for our appointment. I changed back into my red halter top and jeans, while Andrew paid for the costume. He snuck a remote operated vibrator into the shopping bag as well …
We have so many toys in the toy box that I have expressed written instructions for my lifetime partner in crime – Terri – to dispose of the contents immediately after my demise. This is not a tickle trunk I want my family to have to sort through … but they will get to eventually read about it in the book! Except my son.
We went to the piercing and tattoo shop, and the hostess sat me in a chair. It was extremely professional. The artist/piercer went through all the precautions, the possible complictions, the post-piercing care and even the statistics on tooth chipping and how to avoid such scenarios. I wanted the piercing a little further back on my tongue to better hide it.
The piercing artist looked at my tongue to make sure I was a candidate for piercing … she checked the length of my tongue, the webbing and vein placement. They can’t go through a major vein in the middle. My piercing would not be able to go as far back as I wanted because of the webbing under my tongue. Shit. But it would still be far back. I have a long and slender tongue …
I figited in my chair and hummmed from side to side as the little angel and devil sitting on each shoulder chirped in my ear.
Do I? Don’t I?
Of course I do … Bad girl won.
We selected a smaller titanium ball bar to insert since I had metal allergies. I was given a mouth rinse to sanitize and numb my mouth. I read and signed the consent form while the numbing cream worked in my mouf … yeth, i thaid that with a lisp because my tongue wathn’t cooperating anymore.
Andrew laughed and said “Say I love you!”
“I lovth you!” I mumbled.
He hugged me and squeezed me tightly in the chair. He knew what a huge sacrific I was making for him and his pleasure.
With gloved hand she held my tongue and marked the piercing site with dye. She let me lean forward into the mirrored wall to check where it would be located. Perfect.
She grabbed my tongue with clamps … lifted it up and down to check again for location, webbing, veins, no teeth too close. OUCH! Done.
Tears pricked my eyes as she placed the bar over the top of the needle and pushed it through, then tightened the balls on each side.
I wiggled my tongue in the mirror.
Then I was given a full lists of dos and don’ts to care for my newly pierced tongue. Kat* looked directly at Andrew and said “Give her a few weeks to heal before begging for some tongue action. She needs to keep it clean because a tongue infection is serious business.”
He agreed. But patience is not one of his virtues … Nor mine.
I waited thirty minutes to make sure there was no reaction or swelling. I got out of my seat to again stick my tongue out at myself in the mirror and admire my new jewelry. I poked around the jewelry case at the cash and chose two different tongue bars. One had a flat pink top which would blend with my tongue and make the piercing unnoticable (I hoped) and a diamond.
Expensive taste. He was paying for this.
As we walked out the door, I rolled the new hardware around in my mouf (said wif a lisp becauth I couldn’t tawk properly). I wanted a cool drink so we went to a bar so I could have a cool glass of white wine as the freezing wore off.
I can’t eat.
I’m sore. I’m pouty. I want to go home and be coddled to. It’s the least you can do when your girlfriend pierced the most important muscle in her body for you.
Lick it up!
Stay tuned for Part Two … When Andrew gets Blown Away!
Tongue in cheek,
P.S. I unfortunately didn’t keep the bar in and the piercing closed up … Heather would have loved having a pierced tongue!
*Name(s) changed to protect the guilty!
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© Lisa Jobson 2017