• More Thing Change More They Stay The Same!

    by badlad @ 29/11/06 – 20:09:45

    Good evening readers,

    I hope you are all well.

    Hardon was good. The club was packed with leather masters and rubber subs and I was in ecstacy. The drugs did the trick and I forgot about the letter (see previous entry). When you are bent over with someone's fist inside you, things are a lot simpler and you forget about life. At least I do, dear reader.

    The come down was terrible and I suffered all day Sunday and Monday. I had to take the day off work on Monday, which my boss wasn't too happy about. Yes, a perverted freak like me has a normal day job!

    So Tuesday and Wednesday have been very manic. Ms G, who manages me and looks like a hair oompah-loompah keeps giving me strange looks. Perhaps Ms G is reading my blog... I am a press officer within the NHS. How does that sit with you deer reader? A epervert, metro-sexual, drug user working in the NHS. I am just one of many I can assure you.

    I haven't received any more strange letters since Saturday. Although at 5am this morning I was woken by my home telephone ringing. It rang for well over 20 minutes but I didn't get out of bed to answer it. Remembering back, I'm not sure it wasn't a dream. That's the trouble. It could be my freaker stalker who likes to write me letters. Then again, it could have been me. I'm not sure.

    Off for dinner.

    Ciao

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  • The Beginning

    by badlad @ 25/11/06 – 21:44:30

    I'm the Deviant Gemini and this is my first post. It's a pleasure to meet you but we need to become better acquainted...

    09:13 this morning

    The breath on the back of your neck... The feeling of being watched... It's always me.

    I look at the words; written in red ink on paper that is stained yellow with age. It's the first letter like this I have ever received. I stare at the words, reading them over and over. Is it a joke? Is it serious? What are you meant to do when you get one of these things? I think of callig the police but dismiss the idea. I'm nursing a hangover and don't ned this shit now!

    My mobile phone rings; a withheld number. "Hello," I answer. It's SlutSister* confirming our shopping date later. I confirm but don't mention the letter.

    I re-read the words and then find my resolve. The paper is like preserved skin. It is difficult to tear but I manage to turn it into twelve shredded pieces. I throw it in the trash, decide it was some sort of joke and get on with the rest of my day.

    It's now 21:41 and I am getting ready to go out (in between writing this). I am dressed head to toe in shiny black rubber. I am going to Hardon at Club Hidden tonight, a fetish club that throws illegal sex parties. I always find I am very much in demand at these parties.  Normally, getting ready - feeling the texture of the rubber, putting it on my naked skin - makes me horny. Tonight, however, I keep thinking about the letter...

    I pick up a rubber mask and attach it to my suit. My mobile phone has just beeped. It's RbbrPig*. He's sent me a text to say he is in his car and is outside my apartment. It seems he has arrived early as he has offered to pick up some other frinds rather than meet them at the club. This will involve travelling from my apartment, crossing the river and going ino the East End before again crossing the river to get to the club, which is in Vauxhall. I'm about to leave and so I'm finishing this here.

    I'll try to forget the letter. The drugs should help.

    *Rather than reveal the ID of my friends, I have used their online aliases. If you're inclined to perv on the net, you might try a few choice fetish websites and search on their usernames. You'll be suprised by what you find.

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