COVID and Kink

NoOneofConsequence​(dom male){Taken} • Nov 2, 2020

Someone mentioned masks and banks...

Funnily enough, I was having fits with my I.S.P. (as well as television and telephone) when all this broke. And, being disabled and virtually housebound for a decade, didn't have the first clue what was happening out there...

Until I limped down to the store for a resupply.

Now, in December, we had one day of snow a couple of days before Christmas. And I'd limped my sorry and sore ass down to the store in it wearing fifty pounds of leather duster and with a leather "bandit mask" (holdovers from my motorcycle days), paused in the parking lot to pull off the mask before they would let me inside.

A little over two months later (either the end of February or the first of March), I limped down in my shirt sleeves with no mask (it wasn't cold)... and got told I couldn't come in without one.

That was my first hint that any of this was going on, as the manager of the store patiently explained to me about the Corona outbreak and the restrictions that had been put into place.

True story.

Any road... as far as Kinky Covidity...


I caught something. And just grew sicker and sicker until it was a chore to get up out of bed to use the bathroom and tend the animals. A couple of times not even making back to bed, since the floor was comfy enough. Quite literally, it went from a cough on up to bedridden sweat-soaked hallucinations as I was "visited" by my deceased wife and other loved ones. (As well as more than a few enemies that qualify as "suitably dealt with.") Freaked my stepson out when he contacted me and I told him his mother, gone these three years, wasn't home from work yet.

(And if anyone that has my email is reading this, no I still can't remember it to log in, so I apologize if I've not seen a contact you sent in the last month or so while I wasn't up.)

I played it off that his call had woken me up, which it had, and that I'd been having a dream, which I had... But, the truth is that I've stumbled around seeing her, talking to her, touching her even while "awake."

I didn't see a point in getting tested as I was already sequestered and bunkered in place. (And I filed the paperwork with the local hospitals long ago to let me go and learn something from this shell when I'm done with it.)

However, I successfully fought off my sweet little spice from coming to take care of me for three months as I grew worse and worse and she grew more and more worried watching me do little more than sleep over vid chat or have conversations with people that weren't here.

However, I recently went to put my foot down again... only this time the little imp had spread tacks.

And I had to come to grips with the fact that the absolute most I could do to stop my submissive this time was just refuse to open the door at the end of her six-hour trek. (As she was unswayed by even the six-foot braided leather bullwhip that I use to maintain social distancing despite being terrified of it since a small demonstration of my proficiency.)

(Covid Kink: My whip isn't just for sexy times anymore. "If I can touch you with it, you consented. Now, just how sure are you that is six feet?" **whipcrack**)

So, since she wasn't submitting to my demand that she stay the fuck away until I either died or recovered, I limped my sorry and sore ass the half block to an emergency clinic (took me a half-hour as I kept having to rest) with the mutual understanding that if I tested positive, she was not coming. Period.

I tested negative.

Their best guess is that I caught some hayfever that was flared into bronchitis bordering on pneumonia by a bout of Takotsubo cardiomyopathy and the low blood oxygenation levels exacerbated the Parkinson's symptoms I've been fighting for a decade to the point I couldn't differentiate between reality on my own anymore.

Oh, they still wanted to keep my ass anyway and would have if we hadn't blown up into three times the number of our highest infection over the summer and set a record for the most deaths in a single day just the day before, with a dictate that the available beds would be reserved for CoViD positive and even then only those with the potential to be "saved" or expire without that care.

So, I was sent home with a couple of prescriptions and orders to come back if I didn't get better (which you would think by now they would have learned just how well ordering me to do a damn thing works [my former doctor, it turned out, was now the administrative head of this clinic, recognized my name, and came in to {humorously?} warn the attending about me in front of me]).

The next day, I relented and allowed my neighbor (who my sweet little spice had gotten his phone number on one of her trips... so they could conspire against me) to take me to a pharmacy to get my prescriptions filled. (And an actual grocery store so I could buy "real food instead of that crap you've been eating.") (And cast my damn vote since it was right there in the store anyway.)

And relented that she could come ahead to stay with me for a couple of weeks "and take care of me" since the test said I was negative. (Although the fine print says that while a positive is 100%, a negative is only 87%.)

Not sure that she understands just how deadly serious I am that I will not allow her to go back to her daughter, her brother (on oxygen), and her octogenarian parents if she develops so much as a sniff while here. Not without two negative tests, I won't. But, whether she fully groks or not, she is packing to come this way tomorrow.

Any road, I saw this thread... And I am not your Dom. Nor am I any sort of medical professional (although I have been known to roleplay one between the sheets). I have no place to tell you what you should or shouldn't do.

But, as I was perusing the responses, I noted that people were talking about letting in anyone new.

You do you, but that just doesn't work for me personally.

Even though I know my sweet little spice, even though she has come to my evil clutches several times now... No. If you don't live with me (which no one has for three years) or at least breathe the same air for a time each day (which only my late wife had for more than a decade), now is not the time to renew an acquaintance.

Hell, even my neighbor was only allowed to speak to me through a cracked window and pass things to me through the crack until I was tested. He may eat steel and shit nails and have made it back from Nam with only a trick knee and a hole in his foot, but still...

Despite what several "on-line only" erstwhile submissives might have spouted in a fit of hysteria, I am a Dom from balls to bone and reaching into my very soul. I even had to finally relent and admit I might be one of those Alpha assholes. And as such, I am responsible. Not only for my submissive, but for all the other people in her life.

Me? Heaven doesn't want me and Hell knows I'll be new management so they keep losing my transfer paperwork. I was given a life expectancy of five years over a decade ago now when I was diagnosed. (And that of a tse-tse fly due to my behavior three decades earlier that they blame for my more recent diagnosis.) I take precautions, but if it happens, it happens. To me.

But, there is a reason that it goes Safe then Sane then Consensual. Safety first.

And as something on the capitalized side of the slash, it is my responsibility that she (and everyone else in her life) is as safe as I can make them.

***yawn***

And I seem to have tuckered myself out again. I can't even remember if I had a point, much less if I addressed it. So, take it for what you wish. Maybe someday I'll be a little more coherent (at least as much as I ever was).

In the meantime, be good to you and those that you love (and those that they love). Kink on, but safely you fetished duckers.

Grumps needs a nap.