Posts tagged ‘leather’

June 25th, 2013

Olfactory Pleasure

Smell is really important but often a sense taken for granted. Without it, you can’t taste complex flavours fully, you can’t appreciate fragrance, you can’t smell dangerous situations like smoke, you don’t experience petrichor.

I am one of those people who enjoy slightly odd smells, like freshly pressed tarmac or toluene and yet I hate the odor of freshly mown grass.

I have scent memories. I get a feeling of dajavu with certain smells. The smell of my first kiss. The scent of a certain perfume that I don’t know the name of. I love it.

There are also the smells that will turn me on. Jute rope, leather, latex. All smells that are heavenly to me. A leather glove over my nose and mouth, my bag of bondage rope, Liberation’s shop in London. A delight for my nose, my brain, my cunt. I can try and dissociate when required but it’s hard when one tiny hint of the scent will have my mind thinking of all possibilities.

May 7th, 2013

Longing for protection

Since I had major hip surgery 4 weeks ago, my kink life has taken a bit of a back seat as the pain I’m in and the breaks in my bones mean I really should be taking it pretty easy.  That doesn’t mean that my mind shuts up though and kink is frequently on the brain, on both sides of the switchy divide.  My cravings change on an almost daily basis, mainly because I know I can’t have any of it but it keeps coming back to something in particular that I haven’t had for a long time.

Although I was never formally collared during my time with S, I did wear one for her at times during play and when out together and I did form a psychological bond with it.  It made me feel protected and safe, looked after and secure.  There was something very comforting in being able to feel the leather against my skin, bound around my neck.  The smell is heavenly too ( I’ve got a bit of a thing for leather, can you tell?).  Recently, I have really wanted to feel that again, and extend it to leather cuffs too.

The thing is, this all got me thinking about D/s relationships in general.  I’ve never really had much of a formal arrangement, having fallen into D/s relationships before, but there are aspects that I would love to see if they would work for me with someone, as a submissive.  I did a lot of reading when I found myself as a submissive, as well as going to several workshops and I became rather interested in protocol and service.  I like the idea of ritual and rules regarding my behaviour and actions.  I am too stubborn and independent to ever want a 24/7 relationship, plus I always wonder how that would work in poly, especially as a switch but I do have a desire to explore this side of myself again in the future, with the right person, when I am well again.  The idea excites and interests me, as well as missing some of the things I had before that came with my submission.

March 8th, 2013

The Exhibition

I wait for her to arrive. I’m dressed in a corset and heels, cleavage on show. My lips are painted deep red, seams run up the backs of my legs, hair pulled back. I feel confident and in charge.

When I see her, I can’t help but smile. She’s followed my orders and looks exactly how I wanted her to. There’s one thing missing though. I watch as she walks over to me and wordlessly bows her head I slip the soft leather collar around her neck, catching a hint of its delightful smell. I fasten it gently and guide her to look up at me, caressing her check, feeling so powerful.

“You look beautiful and I am proud to call you mine”
“Thank you, Miss” barely a whisper

I plant a tender kiss on her lips and lead the to the stage. The spanking bench is waiting and, will a gesture, she bends herself over it. I tighten the restraints around her wrists and stroke her hair, making sure she is ready. I feel her body relax. As I pull on my gloves, I let her smell the leather, seeing her melt and relax further.

I admire the sight of her arse, presented to me, presented to everyone. A warm up to start, well paced, building up, alternating checks, loving the feel of spanking her, the sound of impact, the aching of her back. I lower her knickers to expose her pale flesh, smiling to myself as I think about how unblemished it is. More gloved slaps, getting harder and faster and still she is silent. I pull off a glove and alternate using my hands until I find myself just using the unshielded one. The feel of the sting when my hand makes contact with bars skin. She’s not been able to stay completely silent and now I know she’s ready.

“Everyone is here to watch him you, to see the marks made on your body, to hear you scream”

She looks at me, pleading with her eyes, but I turn away to reach for the first cane, medium weight, rattan. I start off slowly, lightly tapping to get a feel of the cane. Small moans and yelps follow as I increase the strength of my whipping, working through the canes from thuddy to stingy, natural and man made, flexible and rigid. Her skin glows a beautiful shade of pink, a smattering of marks but not enough yet.

I pick up the final cane. I pass it in front of her eyes and she starts to protest. It’s the stingiest one, whippy and mean and she knows I will use it hard. Loudly enough for the room to hear, I address her,

“I want you to count in batches of 6, clearly, for everyone to hear just how hard this is for you.”

She nods and I begin swiping the cane across her backside, making contact and waiting for her reaction. A repressed yelp, a gasping breathing, a defiant count. Again, the stick meets her skin, harder. Her reaction is louder but still, a hint of defiance. I will break her. My blows continue, some devilishly hard, others so quick in procession that she can barely count. She’s struggling now, the numbers catching in her throat.

I will make this set my last, put everything in have into it. The first breaks the silence with her cry, the welt on her skin visible almost instantly. By the 4th, she is counting through sobs, still determined. When the set is over, I caress her skin,  hand skimming over red marks, making her gasp out. Beautiful lines blossoming on her body. My hand wanders between her legs and I am surprised by her obvious arousal.

As I brush over her cunt, an entirely different moan escapes. She’s forgotten where we are. Gently, I tease her, stroking, prodding, pulling back. Her moans increase, getting louder, more desperate, her body aching into me. A hand at the nape of her neck, pulling her sharply back as my other fingers thrust into her. Another scream, of shock, pain, pleasure.  I finger fuck her fast and hard, until I can feel her body contacting, legs shaking, moans climaxing.

A gentle touch, the careful unrestraining,  the stroking if hair, bringing her back. A kiss on her forehead

“Well done, my good little girl. You have made a lot of people happy tonight. They enjoyed being witness to both your pain AND pleasure.”

A bashful look, a blush on her cheeks.

“I am proud of you, my good girl. You did well” Her smile says it all; now when to show off my girl again?