CURDLE JOURNAL 13/04/08

Start Day Four with a morning shoot for G, who is doing a film-making course at COFA. She turns up with piles of Iced VoVos and lollies and fetches us ‘real’ coffee- a nice change after days of instant! Then she fusses about with lights and scenic and we get to shooting. Essentially this part is just me sitting in the rocking chair, hand-expressing. Made sure not to pump overnight in an attempt to build up the milk supply somewhat, and it seems to have worked because I can squeeze drops from my left breast, usually the shy one that produces little milk, for around half an hour. Of course, this means that my right breast, diva that zie is and usually the exuberant one willing to spray and squirt at the sign of a camera, clams up almost entirely and we are struggling to get more than half a dozen drops from hir. I lick the drops from my breast, squeeze them into a glass of milk, put a fake moustache on my nipple and squeeze milk onto it, play around until G has enough footage.

Then the Bears arrive, bringing me a chocolate mint thickshake that I can barely suck through the straw. The first three hang around for an hour or so, sign a nursing pad each and write in my book and chat milk. One sits in the rocker and tries the electric pump but unfortunately he stops before I can snap a photo-- though I can understand his camera-shyness somewhat. They leave, and two other furry boys arrive with a packet of Tim Tams (so much chocolate!). These ones are more serious, a bit older, and spontaneously raise all manner of milky facts and suggestions, from prostate milking to transgender issues to wondering if I had considered the cyborg aspect of induced lactation. It was a joy to have all of them here, all of them.

Close the gallery and have a little nap in preparation for the big piercing scene set for the evening. Photographer E and stylist and general helping hand G arrive, shortly followed by D, the pushy pointy princess of pleasure and pain. After we muse over costumes, eventually settling on nursing bra, white and blue petticoat-style dress, long blonde wig, blue eye shadow and pale pink lipstick, and scenarios we get down to work. We have previously discussed piercing me and then tying me to the rocker from the needles, and this is the plan we go ahead with—plus some extras. First D places 8 needles in my left breast, in a semi-circle around the top of my nipple, and ties my manual pump (wearing my friend’s christening bonnet) to them with pale pink wool. She then piercing my arms, tying them to the chair and the left one to the pump, so that I have no choice but to cradle it’s ‘head’. Then four needles in my thighs, again tied with wool so that I stay prim and proper, demurely seated. The breast ones are easy to take, like a knife through butter, but the skin on my limns feels tough and they hurt considerably! Only three needles to go, and these are in my face. One horizontally above my left eyebrow, and one in each cheek. Having lots of facial piercings, both permanent and temporary, I am not too concerned but still they are rather ouchy and as I type this the points recollect the experience and ache. A pink baby’s dummy (pacifier) is placed in my mouth, and tied to the cheek needles, and then the eyebrow piercing is tied to the pump so that I am forced to gaze down upon it. Forced domesticity, of a fashion. E takes a lot of pix of the process and result, there is a lot of laughter, and I am set free to bleed and mop up and recover. When everyone leaves I pump and crawl into bed, too exhausted to study or write…