Buddy Beaverhausen's Podiatric House of Pain

Blood pressure cuffs

Despite what you might have heard around town, I'm not into bondage and torture at all. Oh, the ugly rumors! Mine is not The Story of O, it's The Story of O, No You Don't!

I just don't like pain and I have a very low threshold for it. So, if, say, your idea of kinky sex is waterboarding, count me out. I like to be comfortable, which is why sex and exercise are basically out of the question these days. You see, agony is not my ecstasy and I don't enjoy getting messy. It's just so not my scene; it's just not happening for me, kids. Can I make it any plainer? Outside my comfort zone? Ha! Why, there's no such thing, dahlings!

It was therefore a miserable morning at the podiatrist's office where I submitted to tests for my insurance company regarding treatment for mild neuropathy. The medical technician, working off two laptops to record my results on disc, was a handsome, 30-something latino who coerced me into assuming all sorts of positions in order to have his way with me. And then he cuffed me!

Blood pressure cuffs were applied to my legs, from thigh to shining ankle on each leg. Plus, a cuff was placed around the big toe of each foot. It was the toe cuffs that hurt the most. They were absolutely crushing, crippling! Why not just use a nutcracker on my toes??!

Little did I know this morning, I'd entered the podiatric equivalent of The Anvil. I left dressed for success, not for distress!

After the toe crushings (and oh, de agony of de feet!), cuffs removed, I was then told I was about to undergo electric shock testing! Before the tests started, I was ready to tell them anything they wanted to know if only they'd spare me! But, no, the testing began.

The hot latino, holding a wand ~ a device not unlike a small cattle prod ~  placed it against my legs. The torment had me moaning so loudly, I was afraid people in the waiting room outside our closed door might misconstrue what was taking place within. When I innocently arrived for my appointment, fresh faced and caffeinated, little did I know I would soon be tasered, legs convulsing with each applied shock to my neuromuscular system.

I left on crushed toes through the reception area, head held high, fluffing my hair a little in defiance. The best part of my Chelsea morning visit, I must say, was sitting in the waiting room, before my 60 minutes of pain, flipping through Out magazine and coming across the scratch'n'sniff ad for Jean Paul Gaultier's Le Male cologne. I applied it to my wrists. I really like it, turns out! And I can probably get it cheap on Canal. After what I went through with my feet and legs, I deserve it! Don'tcha think?