Textures

Nothing has ever stood in the way of my sex life quite like having bed bugs (and apparently having hired the pest control equivalent of the Chuckle Brothers to sort the problem.) Months in and I now have no actual bed which cramps one’s style supremely.

I half joking tried using the Doxy while perched on this massive essentially balloon and the whole ‘on holiday but definitely not a sexy mini break’ vibe meant I just couldn’t get in the mood. It was as erotic as queuing for a shower at a campsite.

And then about 36 hours later to compound the saga, the seam popped on my airbed and I had to buy a new one. So be warned, the Doxy is so powerful it can break beds. I’ve put mine quietly away until I am more than 18 inches off the ground on a giant cushion just in case I burst it too and end up in A&E with an embarrassing tale to tell.

But worse than this, the constant bed bug siege means the bed, normally a place of rest and calm and enjoyment for me has become a battleground. I’m jumping at every piece of fluff, Sir has been bribed into doing manly acts moving the frame rather than manly acts to me on the frame and Princess is on bite watch. All of us are terrified of infesting their flat as well.

I’ve been getting naked as decontamination not foreplay and been terrified to go near their bed *just in case* but on Friday night Princess had a reason to be wearing latex panties and we realised that we were bed bug proofed in the hottest possible way allowing us to play while not undressing.

I put Princess on her hands and knees and ran the Doxy over her latex clad cunt and up and down her thighs and finally she got why Sir and I love the feel of it so much. This time the Doxy and the rubber worked to break Princess in all the best ways. The texture allowed the vibrations to pulse right through to her clit as I stroked and teased that soft sensitive skin right at the edge of the panties until she came hard and begging for even more sensation.

She’s rarely looked hotter than in latex with smoky eye make up and that look of utterly being undone by an orgasm she didn’t believe would happen. I love knowing her body better than her sometimes. It fills me with pure joy to give her that much pleasure.

And it made me ridiculous horny too. I was wearing a pair of jeans since right now I need clothes you can wash on 60 degrees to beat the bugs. No slinky skimpy lingerie for me at the moment. In fact I’ve become so dedicated to Sir’s order not to wear panties for him I didn’t even have them under my jeans.

Normally the seam on jeans makes them annoying to wear without underwear but right now having it press against my clit and rubbing against the Princess’s latex it was perfect. She was so wet I could hear the latex lubricating itself and I didn’t care if I left a wet patch on my own outfit.

She ran the Doxy over my cunt as she pulled the material up and down against my clit using fabric as much as a sex toy as the vibrator. And each time I squirmed hard enough to push to orgasm, she pulled the fabric as far from my cunt as possible to edge me.

And when I got a tiny bit bratty trying to pull the denim down again she pushed my hands over my head and since it was an evening about textures, she pulled her fishnet stocking off and tied me up with them.

Sir always wanted me to domme Princess but recently she’s discovered that I’m so naturally submissive that her taking control of me makes me even hotter for her and she very much likes telling me what to do. And as much as I love giving pleasure I’ve discovered that I love lying back and taking pleasure with no other distraction.

I was blissed out lying back and hands over my head and ready to be given pleasure like a the slutty version of a cat wanting to be adored when Princess stopped me zoning out by sliding my zip down and spanking my bare cunt.

She spent a while edging me back and forth, slap, smack, stop until I actually asked to come because I was so desperate to let go and just enjoy one of those orgasms that takes you right over with Princess’s hands on my bare skin and the Doxy pulsing against my swollen clit.

Definitely the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on for quite some time…

 

Textures

The Edge

I won’t lie. I haven’t been blogging much because I was distracted by some big old life stuff too but it’s mainly because my bed bug problem continues with seemingly no end in sight. Apparently the heatwave has caused an increase in them especially in London and mine have been compounded by a company who don’t know their arse from their elbow dragging out the treatment for weeks.

Not even my best flirting with workmen skills have helped this time because a) I can’t fuck a man who deals with wasps for a living without crying and b) no man wants to sleep with a woman who he knows has bed bugs. It’s the slutty customer service stand off. And it’s been miserable.

Princess reacts badly to the bites swelling up and itching and I’m also acutely aware of the risk of bringing them to her and Sir’s house. The things people do not mention in the peppy little articles about poly and safe sex. So while I’ve been seeing quite a lot of Sir and Princess, it hasn’t involved much time in bed.

Part of me has loved branching out into much more conventional ‘dating’ behaviours as a triad and I’ve enjoyed each trip to the park, dinner cooked, movie watched or night out but much as I like the boyfriend/girlfriend aspect of my relationship with them, I don’t want to  be just friends. I want to fuck them too.

So it all appeared to be back on track and Princess was ready to sleep over last week and took the opportunity to try the newly positioned bed (thanks to the bed bugs) out by tying my hands over my head and edging me for some time by slapping my cunt until I came in a squirming heap. But sadly it was her with the red marks when we’d finished not me and she had to go home leaving me to sleep alone.

But like when you allow yourself just one small taste of anything, it made me unable to keep pretending I wasn’t horny and I wasn’t missing our usual fucking habits. And I think it might have done the same to my Master and Princess because yesterday turned into all about orgasms.

Princess and I whiled a way a wait for Sir to get back from work with her capturing her enjoyment of giving me orders and controlling my orgasm again. She brought me so close to orgasm with some well placed spanks to my clit piercing I begged her to let come and then rewarded her with some undivided attention to her own clit until we were both in that state of ‘I might burst if I have another orgasm but I don’t want to stop.’

We hadn’t mentioned our greed to Sir instead sitting down to dinner when he got home and enjoying some good news but maybe he picked up the mood because instead of crashing out early after a business trip like he often does, he was in the mood to initiate orgasms.

He’s bought a pair of spectacular heeled platform boots and came into the living room to show me them. He’s a tall man anyway but in these he was towering over both us, legs for miles and cock enjoying the feel as much as Princess and I were. Almost 6 inches taller than normal, he had us take turns to kneel and suck his cock, gaining extra enjoyment from the extra effort it took both of us to reach it.

And that extra height made sucking cock all the more intense for me, slipping further down my throat than I can usually take. Princess’s deepthroat skills are second to none but mine are tentative to say the least. There’s always a moment I simultaneously think ‘oh yes’ and ‘I can’t’ and I lose my confidence and stop.

Sir pushed me hard last night with this point putting me on my hands and knees on the bed while he fucked my throat and pulled my hair and stroked my back and the pleasure/pain moment was even more overlapping than usual during deepthroat. I loved it and hated it and wanted more and wanted to stop. I wanted to please him and I wanted to fight him to get away.

But while my brain panics and my body isn’t sure, my cunt knows exactly how it feels with my clit being swollen under Princess’s fingers while Sir pushed my throat to its limits and I came for them both. I do so much love that extra edge pushing myself to submit adds to sexual acts for me.

And then I found the other aspect to my Master standing closer to seven feet tall than six feet. His cock goes even deeper into my cunt than before. Every time he fucks me I wonder if my cunt has a limit for cock and last night I realised once and for all, it doesn’t. There is at point at which his cock is too much. He fucked me harder and deeper than I think he’s ever done all balanced on high heels and it reduced me to such a cock slut I genuinely thought I was going to squirt from penetrative sex for the first time ever.

I actually didn’t really notice his orgasm or Princess’s orgasm I was so wrapped up in coming over and over again on him fucking me into a whole new level of cock worship. I love that feeling inside my cunt afterwards when you can feel just fucked you’ve been but last night I could feel it on the outside too.

The pleasure/pain of the whole evening continued every time I sat down or moved and felt the sexual equivalent of a well worked muscles and it sent a little shiver of enjoyment into my whole body with each reminder. I presume this what virtuous people feel when they hike high mountains and the body feels like muscle memory and achievement. I scale the heights of cock instead.

And best of all, Sir was all pleasure and no pain in his heels so hopefully he’ll be keen to use the boots to dom me into a greedy fuck toy again soon…

The Edge

Bugging Out

So I’ve been a bit quiet recently because life has just been throwing all kind of sex blocking stuff at me. Between exams, family crises, new jobs, old jobs that get busier, travel and deadlines, kink and fucking have had to step back slightly.

But nothing has fucked up my fucking habits quite like getting bed bugs. I defy even the horniest person on earth to feel frisky when you’ve got unwanted bedfellows. It is not the kind of action I want on my mattress trust me.

Poor Princess got bitten badly and put me on notice til I could get it sorted. We managed to fuck a few times on the sofa but even that wasn’t ideal. I might have a big sofa but it’s definitely a struggle to fit three people on it and move around too much.

People often talk about fucking in bed as if it’s boring and vanilla and interesting people fuck all over the land in increasingly wild and crazy places instead. Now we all know I like a changing room or two and there’s definitely fun in the exhibitionism and secrecy of an illicit fuck in a strange place on the odd occasion.

But having had a mis-spent and slutty youth, I mainly associate sex in strange places with bad sex. Being young and horny like many teenagers I had nowhere comfortable to fuck most of the time. The only beds I encountered were in student houses often bedrooms barely conducive to spending time in and heaped with coats with parties dodging getting caught by people looking for the lighter they’d mislaid.

And that was if you weren’t fucking in even stranger and more awkward places than that. Desperation and lack of opportunity drove me to have sex in more alleyways than I’d care to admit. There’s not much room for finesse when you are banging beside a wheelie bin. Nor do toilet cubicles lend atmosphere to the proceedings.

I’ve also fucked in the grounds of a church (in fact I think I’ve been non sectarian and managed to orgasm in the grounds of both a Protestant church and a Catholic chapel.) Being non religious the trappings of that never bothered me much. I just thought of them as fairly secluded places you didn’t always have to have sex standing up.

I felt more guilty about the time I fucked a guy in the grounds of an old folks home in case I accidentally gave someone’s granny the fright of her life. Keeping an eye on lights going on and genuinely getting splinters in my arse off the pine tree I was leaning against made that moment memorable for all the wrong reasons.

Teenage fumblings are fine when you’re drunk and horny but once you switch to have time and space for sex it’s revolutionary. Even a one night stand is improved by skin on skin contact rather than only being able to expose the bare minimum of flesh needed. Only being able to fuck standing up or bent over from behind gets restricting and often awkward if like me you are considerably shorter than most men.

Being able to sprawl out on a bed gives so many more opportunities and angles it becomes easy to take that for granted and think it’s being boring. But there’s such a joy in being able to fuck at a different pace each time and use your space to stretch out and get to know your partner’s body to give them the most pleasure possible and receive as much pleasure back as possible. It’s extremely tricky to lick cunt any other way.

Plus a bed you use frequently gives you scope for the use of toys. We have duplicates of our favourite sex toys at both our flats. But you can’t really carry a dildo in your clutch bag and get someone to use it on you when you climb over the fence into a park late at night. The same goes for lube which is of course essentially for things like anal or even giving a decent hand job.

You learn so much more about sex from spending time in bed and you also get to spend that post sex time too. I think you learn as much after fucking as during fucking. You can debrief, decide what to do next or not and simply get to know each other better so that there’s more understanding sexually or emotionally. Pulling your skirt down and your knickers up while looking for a bin for the used condom doesn’t have quite the same bonding experience.

So having my bed off limits and being terrified to infest my Master and Princess’s bed either really did a number on my libido. I found it hard to get quite as horny knowing the sofa wasn’t a fun choice but a necessity. Plus having bed bugs definitely made me feel more dirty than any STI I’ve ever had which crimps your style somewhat.

It was with utter joy this week that I handed over an eye popping amount of money to get my house professionally treated and get my sex life back. Because the best treatment for bed bugs is extreme heat I had to remove anything that might melt from my bedroom. The man on the phone instructing me specified candles and anything ‘hand held or battery operated’ in fact.

In between the sheer bizarreness of spending a good hour taking all my dildos and sex toys out of their box and wrapping them up in plastic bags to hide outside in my garden, my interest was piqued to revisit these old friends. I buffed my latex catsuit and stockings before hiding them too and then pictured wearing them again soon.

Putting the toys back in place, I found myself lining them up in size order and then switching them round to order of favourites before back to size order so I could ask Sir if I could start my stretching training again. It’s never a bad idea to keep your hand in. Especially when that means Sir can get his hand in again soon.

I’m delighted to have my bedroom back with nothing else in there except who I invite. Although funnily enough in all that time off I still didn’t christen my new carpet. Looks like my Master and Princess and I will just have to reacquaint ourselves with every room going…

Bugging Out

Hot Wax

My Master and I have had many many kinky conversations but like they say, you always remember your first. And out first ever filthy chat focused quite heavily on the thought of hot wax.

We discussed it several times in the early days of our relationship (back when I was being a slow learner and hadn’t realised we were properly doing D/s) and I actually bought a big bag of soy wax in anticipation.

And then we got sidetracked with all the other ridiculously fun and filthy kink over the last three years and the bag of wax got forgotten about until a recent clear out brought it to mind again.

It is testament to how much I was determined not to miss hot wax with my Master this time that I actually sent him a specific date I had in mind for it and more or less gave him an order for the first time in our relationship.

Life has got in the way of my Master and I doing any full D/s for a few months and I’ve been missing it. Submission doesn’t just turn me on but sort of recharges my emotional batteries too so for me the scene started long before Sir got to my house.

Researching how best to melt the wax and what to apply it with, picking out what to wear or not wear on the night, incorporating Princess into what I was setting up and then laying out my living room so that it was as close to a dungeon as I can get it meant my excitement built all week.

By the time I was getting dressed for Sir with full slutty make up designed to smudge and smear over the scene for Princess, I had that excitement that you can feel in both your stomach and your cunt. I was the tiniest bit worried I’d built the anticipation up too much as I knelt blindfolded re-acquainting myself with John Holmes for the first time in months as I waited for them to arrive.

I think it was about thirty seconds in when I realised the evening was in fact going to exceed my wildest expectations. My Master started me off by sitting back in my armchair glass of whisky in his hand letting me find his cock with my mouth.

Not only did his cock taste particularly good but he pulled me deeper down on it than I can usually manage by raking his hands through my hair and up and down my back and shoulders which made melt down onto his cock like I couldn’t get enough. Just as I was so blissed I could barely move my mouth round him, he swapped places with Princess and I buried myself in her lap too.

Sir ordered us both onto the floor on our knees and took turns fucking us. He filled me up with his cock and left me wanting more as he pulled Princess on top of him with her ass in the air and told me to use her as my toy. It was time to get the temperature play part of the evening going.

Alongside my hot wax I’d laid out an ice bucket and buried my favourite curved glass butt plug inside it. I left Princess’s ass hot and stinging after a few hard slaps and then pressed the ice cold toy against her. She took the toy in one go and sat down so hard on Sir’s cock I was envious of how filled up she was.

They didn’t leave me for long though, working together as Princess put me in the spreader bar as Sir tied my hands and arms so I was flat on my back, legs spread wide and unable to stop either of them from doing anything to me. I was completely naked, totally immobile and very vulnerable.

It was exactly the moment I wasn’t sure if I could take the pain I thought would be coming and I almost wanted to safe word before we’d even begun. This amount of anticipation after a whole week of waiting was unbearable. I was so wrapped up in in that moment I almost didn’t notice the first drip of wax for a second until a sting of beeswax brought me out of my thoughts and right into the scene.

I didn’t have more than a split second to breathe in before a warm wave of hot wax washed over me. Smoother softer cooler soy wax felt like pure pleasure on my skin. I could feel myself slide into subspace where my body and mind feel incredibly sensitive and attuned yet in soft focus.

Sir flicked and dripped the wax over my tits, warming my nipple piercings with residual heat which gave me much more sensation than I ever get there especially as Princess was flicking her tongue over my clit at the same time. I was just basking on ripples of warmth and orgasms as the sensations built with layers of hardening wax.

It was the first time my Master and Princess have worked together on a kink scene where I am doing active submission rather than just being submissive as I fuck and it felt like being passed from hand to hand if they weren’t letting my feet touch the ground like floating completely securely.

The wax kept coming running and dripping down my torso and arms, flicking onto my legs and tightening as it dried. I knew my Master and Princess were taking turns with it concentrating in places while alternating with bright hot splashes of the beeswax anytime I looked like I was starting to zone too far out.

Usually when I submit to Sir I am very quiet, almost non verbal but this scene pushed me out of that habit because I knew that to keep this pleasure coming I needed to give feedback as it was so unlike anything we’ve played with before. I’ve always thought that talking during a scene would take me out of it but in fact I discovered it enhanced everything.

Although maybe my Master also likes me silent because he gave Princess the order to use the Doxy on me at this point. The way she pulsed it and pressed it against my cunt made me lose my voice into the pull of five orgasms one after like a complete slut as the wax ran across my bare cunt feeling exactly like the warmth of squirting.

I was utterly spent. And my Master and Princess were just ready to get started on each other. I lay back watching as Sir slid his cock into Princess’s stretched welcoming ass and fucked her so hard they both collapsed into me as he came into her.

It was the perfect way to crack the wax they’d worked so hard to build up so that when they untied me and pulled me up off the floor there was a perfect line of wax around my body to prove how we’d spent two kinky hours that were more than worth the wait….

wax lines

Hot Wax

Heat Me Up

I’ve had more conversations about boilers recently than anything else. Not only did mine decided to go on strike over the weekend but a friend might just have embarked on a illicit *thing* with the gas safety engineer who came to check hers the other week.

I did laugh as she sighed over a glass of wine that you can’t just fuck the boiler guy and thought to myself ‘I would’. It was only after she went home and I was clearing up the glasses that I remembered I had fucked the boiler guy once.

The only reason I didn’t text her to tell her that as encouragement is that while I didn’t mind her knowing my wicked ways but I did feel slightly embarrassed that my wicked ways are so debauched that I’ve got beyond forgetting the names of people I’ve fucked and into just forgetting whole people I’ve fucked. Being a slut is one thing. Being a slut with a terrible memory is a whole different game.

But when I was lying in bed that night I was pleased to note that I remembered the boiler guy extremely well when I thought back. He’d come to check gas safety certificate and do some maintenance work to allow the boiler to be signed off so was going to be there for a couple of hours.

Somehow the conversation went from flues and valves to tattoos. And it turns out this gas engineer was a tattoo obsessive with full sleeves and coordinating chest and back pieces of botanically accurate Japanese cherry blossom which I have to say I wasn’t expecting in deepest south London.

His face lit up in that way that happens when you give people permission to talk about the thing they love and that was the moment I realised the boiler guy was extremely good looking. I have always been an absolute slut for men who lose their self consciousness and just enjoy their interests even if they are silly or geeky or unfashionable.

And this guy loved Japanese sakura. I mentally skipped over the bit where he mentioned travelling to Japan to see the blossom in person on his honeymoon and listened to him describe how beautiful it was. I was trying to picture how that might look tattooed on his body when I realised he was asking me did I want to see the artwork?

I must have said yes but next thing I knew his shirt had come off and his tattoos were right there along with his nicely muscled torso. He turned and paraded for me so I could take in the detail of each black and white blossom and flower. And the only other thing I am a bigger slut for than lack of self consciousness is really really good tattoos on men.

And these were some of the most beautiful tattoos I have ever seen. Clearly designed as one whole piece and with an artist who wanted to use and enhance the shape of this guy’s body with light and shade, it literally flowed and cascaded down his back and arms and showed off both his skin and the sheer movement of his body with each little ripple or flex of a muscle or tendon.

It was incredibly hot. The kind of hotness where the room seems to grow thick with anticipation and time seems to slip and slide slowly but inevitably to the moment you start fucking. He lifted my hands onto his arms and let them move across this carpet of flowers and start sliding down onto the smooth but unmarked skin of his stomach.

I’m not sure if my hands moved themselves almost without control or he guided them but I was undoing his trousers and he was completely naked in my hallway, his body contrasted between the black and white of the top and the bare flesh of the bottom drawing my eye right to the middle and his hard cock.

He was still in the hall where anyone could see through my front door when I went down on my knees to suck his cock. I could feel his muscles tense and although I wasn’t able to see it from that angle I could just picture how good his back looked flexing like that. I loved that I was fully dressed and he was completely naked.

Something caused a noise outside and we both realised what we were doing and he stepped into my living room and closed the door to give slightly more privacy and possibility to fuck. I used the break to go and find some condoms in my bedroom and when I came back was greeted by another favourite sight that goes straight to my cunt.

He was standing cock in hand with that same lack of self consciousness as earlier and exactly how I imagine he makes himself come when he’s alone. I love that familiarity men have with their own bodies and it always makes me horny to watch. He just kept pulsing and clenching his hand on his cock so smoothly I hardly noticed he’d slipped the condom on while I’d got undressed.

He pulled me down on top of him on the carpet and we fucked. I had a fantastic view of his arms and chest and those tattoos almost til the last second when he pulled me down hard onto his torso and came into me. I remember grabbing his arms and pulling him against me until I came and then lying back for one last glance of that beautiful blossom.

I can’t remember how we disentangled ourselves but it wasn’t awkward. None of that ‘what the fuck just happened?’ wash of shame or regret. Almost that feeling of it just being how things are sometimes. I’m fairly sure in a stroke of pure Irish sluttery I made us tea while he got dressed again and went back to being a gas engineer without this ink superpower under his shirt.

After he left I thought many times about his tattoos and the effect body modification can have. In fact the impact lasted so long and so vividly in my mind’s eye that’s why I’d forgotten about the boiler connection til now. I think I could probably still draw his tattoos but I couldn’t tell you what his face looked like.

I’d only know it was him come to fix my boiler again in the future if he recognised me or happened to have stripped his shirt off before he got here. I won’t lie. The latter would have made a midnight boiler call out last night much more fun…

Heat Me Up

Fuzzy

Not only is my brain still fuzzy from being ill, so is the rest of my body. Being stuck in bed all week saving my energy to have a shower doesn’t give me most energy wiggle room for the other bits of the work that goes into my usual femme self.

So while I’d never judge anyone else for choosing not to shave, I feel like I’m wearing the wrong skin when I don’t. I don’t feel cute or empowered by casting off the patriarchy’s shackles of not shaving. I just feel furry and un-femme.

And a month of being stuck in bed with not much more to do then watch my leg hair grow has made me realise just how much of my sexual energy is linked to the confidence I feel in my femme presentation. Having my hair *just* right, my legs and cunt smooth and my nails polished makes me feel sexual. It’s as much lubrication for flirting and feeling sexual as my actual cunt getting wet.

So I know I’m coming back to life sexually when I start to get the itch to shave smooth again. I always dither between where to start. Do I start from my ankles and work up to my cunt in order and anticipation? Or use a trimmer to reveal my cunt lips again after them feeling so covered up for weeks and then wet shave everything in one go until my skin is so smooth and sleek it almost squeaks?

Either way I know the feel of my skin sliding against the sheets at night starts to wake my brain up so my dreams get interesting again. It starts imagining being pressed against Sir’s chest hair as he fucks me or running my hands over those fine golden hairs on Princess’s thighs as she holds the Doxy against her clit. When those dreams start leading to orgasms in my sleep then it definitely bodes well for how my body will behaves during the day too.

It’s amazing how sharp a razor make you feel…

Fuzzy

Polish and Shine

I think regular readers of the blog know I have a thing about painted nails. I feel undressed and exposed not having my nails immaculately painted at all times. A little chip else is like being as undone as a ladder in my tights or discovering I spilt toothpaste on my top and have to wear it all day.

I’ve loved nail polish since I was a child. It was the ‘acceptable’ femme indicator in a country where make up beyond a little powder and lipstick for church were ‘fast’. It also had the glamour of the city that sat much more comfortably with me than the scrubbed bare hands of the side of my family who were farmers.

Every single year for Christmas I asked Father Christmas for a bottle of pink Tinkerbell nail polish which could be peeled off and didn’t make the whole nail polish thing seem quite so adult to actual adults. Santa clearly had opinions about the subject though because he never noticed that bit on my letter.

So when I was old enough to start going shopping down the town on my own at the age of about eleven or twelve, the first thing I bought was a bottle of black nail polish. I wore it religiously throughout my teens even if I had to pull my sleeves down to hide it from teachers and relatives who couldn’t decide if it symbolised Satan or sluttiness.

I still fall back on black nail polish as a perennial favourite nearly thirty years later but since I started blogging here I’ve branched out to appreciate the power of perfect red nails too. Not just on me either, but on Princess’s fingers too interspersed with orders that proved I was definitely on the side of slutdom not Satan all along.

It’s hot to paint her nails (and this fantastic piece from Tits and Test Tubes on using nail polish to domme a girl made me very tempted to give Princess festive red tipped fingers this week) and I do love the impact a little extra colour adds to fucking myself. But it never occurred to me if there’s dominance in painting nails, there’s submission too.

Until I found myself painting Sir’s nails the other night that was and then it was as crystal clear to me as the best top coat in town. He and Princess were trying out Torture Garden to see if it was smutty and slutty enough for us to play at and in absence of being able to go with them, I had offered to help them dress up.

Sir’s make up needed the edge of nail polish to tie everything together to make sure it was an outfit not a costume. Black latex top, black leather shorts, stockings, suspenders, the sharpest pair of black boots I’ve seen in years and black eye make up that shimmered dark green if you looked closely. The nails just capped it all off.

I didn’t expect that sitting across a table from Sir fully clothed with a tiny bottle of beetle black nail polish in my hands would be one of the most submissive things I’ve ever done. I didn’t touch anything except his hands and yet it felt so incredibly submissive I could feel myself slipping into that subspace that feels like the calm focus before sleep. The state where you could take any order at all.

I am very well acquainted with my Master’s hands. They’ve held me up, pushed me down, made me come countless times and been completely inside me. I’ve often glanced at them in public and remembered what they’ve done in private but I’ve never just sat and held them before.

Completely non sexually, just spread out on the kitchen table in front of me, letting me position his hand as I needed and apparently give him the directions for a change. Patiently allowing me to turn each finger and pay attention to each nail. Pointing out when I missed a bit. Sitting still to let each coat dry. Making sure they were absolutely perfect and that I wasn’t rushing the task or cutting corners.

It was a full hour of my full attention on him and his hands and it reminded me that submission doesn’t have to be inherently sexual. In fact sometimes taking the direct sexual content out of it makes it deeper. We didn’t fuck, we didn’t touch apart from doing nails then his make up.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I went home. Some of that is that he looks even better in stockings than I’ve spent the last three years imagining and I could look at his legs all day in them. Yet despite always wanting to see him in stockings it was submission that was on my mind instead.

I’d definitely be interested in more acts of non sexual submission to him in the coming year but then again I’m also very interested in him letting me paint his nails again and then fist me knowing how perfect his hands look…

Polish and Shine