Play Piercing front cover

Play Piercing front cover

by Deborah Addington
Published in 2006 by Greenery Press

I’m not sure what to make of this book’s appearance in print. On the one hand, it’s good that a publisher with the stature of Greenery Press finally went on the record and published a resource about play piercing. Yet for some reason, I can’t help but envision a self-serving politician hoisting this book in front of the cameras of a media all too eager to play along about the latest menace to our children. Even though we’re all responsible for our own behavior, I also can’t help but worry that the book might inspire someone who doesn’t know what they are doing to try play piercing on someone too trusting and result in a bad play experience or worse.

Play piercing is one of my favorite play activities. While there is a great deal of medical literature and accepted medical practices devoted to similar practices such as phlebotomy, play piercing is an art and not a science. There aren’t lots of controlled studies dedicated to following how different piercing techniques affect the body, how piercing bottoms react to such things. Nor is there a central agency to receive trouble reports when play piercing goes awry.

Though there is little doubt that experience is imminently valuable about learning how to do something like play piercing, all of that experience is anecdotal. Just because I stuck a needle in the Nether Region A on subs x, y, and z and nothing bad happened to them, it’s a big stretch to say that sticking a needle in Nether Region A is “safe.” For one thing, I don’t think that play piercing is safe.

It is my considered opinion that if you want to enjoy BDSM but only when it’s safe, you should probably find a new sexual outlet. Most everything BDSM doesn’t meet any reasonable definition of “safe” either physically or emotionally. Which is okay. Just because something isn’t safe doesn’t mean one has to be reckless – exercising caution isn’t a bad thing.

If nothing else, Play Piercing will prove to be a good resource for those interested in play piercing, because it will stand as a handy reference for basic questions about the most common questions and techniques about play piercing. The book also suggests a few more advanced play piercing techniques and ideas that can expand the play of even the most experienced play piercing fan. The sections devoted to the joys of blood play are also of interest.

Still I can’t write about this book without mentioning a few minor things that bugged me as I read through the pages. One thing in particular was Addington’s use of the term “skinsuit” to describe the skin. I don’t know if it was intended to be clever, cute, or both, but it distracted from the text.

In another section where she discusses consuming (drinking) blood, she attempts to come across as a blood epicurean and makes silly and preposterous claims about how one’s diet affects the taste of their blood. She claims that people who eat fish often taste fishy, frequent fried food lovers taste like gravy, and so on. Until someone coducts a double blind study of the taste of blood and diet, I will remain unconvinced. Perhaps instead of a rigorous study, someone could start a crimson Pepsi Challenge. Imagine perverted volunteers like myself being surprised to discover they prefer the taste of Miss Eats-McDonald’s-Every-Day to Miss Exercises-and-Watches-Her-Diet. Then again, I’m a little strange.

While this book will not serve as a substitute for learning about play piercing by doing and observing, anyone interested in play piercing, regardless of their level of experience, will find this book a good investment of time and money.