Itching to play … just itching …
08 Jun 2011 Leave a Comment
The weekend had some kink and some vanilla events. Friday night was laid-back. No appointments, and no overwhelming desire to go out. Rad and I got out the TV trays for a change and watched a NetFlix movie that had been sitting for a while. It was Iron Man with Robert Downey Jr. (As an aside, I’ve seen a lot of Robert Downey Jr. films and I have to say, is there any role he’s not good at? Here’s one fabulous example of a guy who turned his life around, got clean and sober and then became an even better actor than before. We love him.)
Saturday night I planned to go to the “Metamorphosis” party in Long Island. Rad was going to “represent” at the OTK munch and party at Paddles. But at some point during the week, I had developed a God-awful skin condition — which became blatantly obvious on Friday evening. It itched like you wouldn’t believe. Saturday morning found me at a clinic near my house, getting examined. The doc ruled out poison ivy and said it wasn’t contagious. He said it could be our laundry detergent or some other product containing a scent. Great. We’d just done three loads of laundry in some unknown generic brand. I filled the prescriptions he gave me, bought “Dermatologist-Tested Free and Gentle Tide” plus some unscented Dove soap, and went home, where I rewashed my clothes.
My Dom wanted me to come out to the Long Island party, even if we couldn’t play. I said that I would update him on how miserable I felt. How was I going to play or do anything in my condition? The redness was all over my torso and down the back of one leg.
But we had wanted to go to this particular party for a while, and by late Saturday afternoon, with what looked like some minor improvement, I voted to go. I wore tights and a stretchy tight shirt that I could sacrifice, and my Dom said we would play if I felt like I could handle it.
I was happy he wanted to see me, because looking at myself I felt disgusted. And we did play, although I had to call mercy on an attempted strapping, as it hurt too much when it struck the area of the tights over the rash.
He took out his scary oversized scissors, pulled up the material covering my nipples and cut holes, so my nipples were exposed. Later he took a knife and sliced down through the crotch area of my tights, exposing me further. That way he was able to “torture” me in areas other than my butt, which can be scary play, but I always like the challenge. People at the party said it looked “hot,” not knowing what was really going on.
The party was a lot of fun, with good energy and sexy scenes, both sensual and painful. And the people were nice.
But the next day, Sunday, I was dying again. I had a lot of work (writing and editing) to do but was having trouble focusing on anything but the itch. I kept applying various skin creams, with varying results. In between I ran ice all over my skin for additional relief.
Monday morning I went to see my regular doctor in Manhattan, who shuttled me down the street to a dermatologist. His diagnosis: It was a reaction to a new drug I’d recently started taking. I was surprised. I have never had a drug reaction in my life. It was the only thing I could think of that was new, so I hope that we pinpointed the culprit to be avoided in the future.
The medication he prescribed started working almost immediately. Within one day — about 75% better. It’s still a little itchy today, but I don’t want to sandpaper my skin anymore. (I have to take all of the medication just to make sure we correct the problem.)
