The whole not-being-remotely-subby-or-masochistic thing has one small flaw – those who enjoy pain can, or so I have heard, cope better with unexpected non-kinky pain should some happen. I have known at least one person who reckoned that having a prolonged session under the tattooist’s needle could lead to orgasm, for example. I certainly wished for a bit of that ability on Monday night, when a bout of violent muscle spasms in my lower back resulted in a trip to A&E…Good drugs improved the situation after a while and, while not quite up to speed I am going to be at the BBB tomorrow
Medical kinks definitely exist – if you remember the early days of the plague, there were a couple of companies who happened to have stock of at least semi-authentic scrubs, gloves and other PPE, which they donated to the health services. Also, there was a story about a dominatrix dentist in Rule 34 Volume 1 and one about getting aroused by having a fever in Volume 2. (Both these anthologies are available from me – use the contact form if I haven’t fixed that page of the bookshop by the time you read this… Intellectually I can see the appeal, I suppose: a 
combination of pain, fear and feeling cared for. Though I definitely do not have any kind of fear kink: particularly as part of my fear on the night was due to fretting about the NHS and its overstretched, harried staff. Nor was I able to get any kinky thrills from the indignity of bed pads and a finger up the ringpiece to check if the problem was located up there. (No. No it wasn’t. I didn’t expect it to be…) Should you be in a position where you have to be carted off in an ambulance and strapped to a bed for hours, try to remember your manners, however shit you are feeling. And if you can in any way eroticise your experience, then take as much comfort as you can from it.
Still, hopefully my residual miseries will ease up after a hot bath and a moderate amount of sleep. And if anyone reading this is in pain, hope it eases off for you in the near future.