Tag Archives: fetish

Tempting Fate – Part One Getting Ready

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I’ve decided to set another story in DC since I love it there and that’s where I was roaming the streets a few days last week. Besides it has a bit of a sexy edge which is something my writing of late hasn’t had much of lately which is a completely different post that’s coming soon.

On a similar note I came across this photographer (in case the link doesn’t work http://alternative-images.streamlinenettrial.co.uk/skin/ and some are duplicated on suffering4art.com)on a thread on fetlife and I thought his pictures were stunning and quite original in a way a lot of Fetish works aren’t.

I haven’t corresponded with him and don’t know him personally but there is something genuinely dark and erotic in these that is so often lost in the typical fetish pictures. Well that and I’m a sucker for great black and whites. For the record my two favorites are these two image numbers !0001–DSCF5498MOD-cropped600.jpg and !0003–DSCF6633Selenium600.jpg

Now on to the story.

Part 1

She was so comfortable in her own skin. She knew everything and was in total control is what she told herself as her heels clicked up the dark side walk in the cool air of a fall evening. The breeze blew past the buildings and through her clothes, touching her soft white skin with its tepid moist caress as it danced all over her.

She knew what she wanted she had fantasized about it a million times, lurked on web sites and forums for years. She had played it all out in her head. It was old hat, same old game on a brand new field but the rules certainly wouldn’t have changed. The game was always exciting but it was the new ball field or more so the audience that added to the excitement.

Cool as could be as she stepped through the door way and into the room. It was filled with an array of colorful character each symbolizing their own unique proclivities or combinations of them. One particular assortment felt no need to wait for a more secluded space for their wicked little game. Making her way to the bar her heart raced, ever so slightly. Ordering her drink her stomach began to

flutter and swallowing hard as she saw his unassuming form in the distance she questioned whether or not tis is what she really wanted, but only for a second.

Unassuming as he was lurking in shadows some how made him all the more becoming. Moving toward her his eyes unwavering as hers met his and then looked down. She missed his smile, the wicked little smile that said more than words ever could.

“Good evening” she said nervously

He simply took her by the hand as she gulped down the last of her drink before being led across them room, down a hallway and into a large open space filled with images most would equate with a hellish mid evil torture chamber as sound of whooshing, cracks of cruel little devices against completely bared flesh and the accompanying screams and moans to match. Her heart was now pounding, her skin wet with nervous anticipation as she watched the people before her total engulfed in their own little worlds oblivious to the voyeurs taking delight in their actions.

She wondered what does one say to some one say to these people after they’ve finished. Is it polite to clap, to tell them you enjoyed their display of intimacy and surrender through a polite comment after the fact or was it best to just share a knowing smile.

She wondered because something told her soon enough it would be her on display.

Latex Allergies

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This Morning we find ourselves on day two of Kink Week and starting off with another humorous tale. The audio portion of this one is well worth the listen if you love the sound of a nice English girl, I know I certainly do. You can hear the audio on the Pickle Player above or by visiting http://malflic.libsyn.com See you again in a few hours for the Mid Day Play.


Ladies and gentlemen, Masters and Mistresses and of course all of you on the receiving end of things as well. Today our little story begins like this…

Once upon a time a particular lady who had become fairly well known within certain circles of her twisted little community over recent years was widely renowned for loving strut around munches, play parties, and other social functions in full fetish regalia. You do have to love gatherings with a private room don’t you?

She one night she encountered, as you might imagine from the title, a small problem.

After all she was a very sexy creature. Dangerously high heels and boots gave way to long legs adorned in a second skin of leather, latex, or PVC. Although her knickers usually left very little to the imagination when it came to her body’s form, they and all of her other assets so to speak certainly caused more than their fair shares of imaginations to lose themselves in other even more mischievous thoughts. Her matching tops, ample chest and typically exposed cleavage (with pierced perky nips) didn’t hurt either.

Now with all the slapping and smacking, the looks and word play, the wicked torturous little devices and all those other delightfully sinful games that get played, her very diverse wardrobe only added to her allure and popularity.

She was a fun Girl always up for a little give and a bit of take as well if you know what mean.

Some people have a few sets of play clothes, she had enough to outfit the entire community, and she was from a fucking big city. One with a well established scene, where she liked to parade around like the queen of the club. Although there were a few other “queens” who might disagree. But those boys had a completely different taste in play friends.

At the end of one particularly long torrid evening that was filled with loud music, a bit too much dancing, a few too many pints, an assortment of friends, and a few other things she found her way home. Sadly but by choice alone mind you. Beauty sleep going in to a busy week end is never a bad idea.

Out of the cab, up the steps and in to the cold air of her flat she furiously pulled open her top coat like some perverted old flasher and it was strewn over the arm of the sofa before she closed the door behind her. Personally I think if it weren’t for stuffy old farts, and people hiding sexy outfits under them long coats would have faded from sight years ago.

Think about that next time you’d sitting on a crowded train. It’ll help pass the time.

Well she made her way the room turned on the Tele (check for cultural accuracy), had a few more sips and began peel off her clothes, first unlacing the boots, then restrictive top, ahh freedom felt so good, and finally getting to her smudged after a long night and now not so shiny pants exposed the last of her bits and pieces to an empty room.

Noticing a few bumps. Damned razor burn! What a girl has to suffer in the name of beauty and fun. Sitting there mindlessly winding down she noticed it might be a few bumps but she was also getting itchy, a long night a lot of movement perspiration and rubbing. One doesn’t wear latex because it is a cool breathable garment. Upon further investigation, a few splotches and the start of a rash. A bloody rash!

Those are never a good thing but her mind raced nearing a panic as to why her nether regions were having such issues. No new lovers, being D&D was something she prided herself on. Never mind that her favorite monthly play party was the next day so it made things just a bit worse.

After running all the horrid possibilities through her mind she looked at the baby powder she had used to slip into her outfit, it was the same as always. The same polish she had been using for years put the sheen in her deep black mirror like pants and bustier.

Rinsing off in the shower and inspecting the condition a little more closely the thought that people from time to time just developed allergies occurred to her. A latex allergy wasn’t all that uncommon. How does one find out if that’s the issue? Do you just call the doctor? Imagine that conversation I think I have a latex allergy and here’s why my damn pants made me all splotchy, not to mention the implications of what one would have to for a nice safe go at things with people; and toys. And all those out fits that she loved as much as anything.

Eventually she dozes off concerned and still slept like a baby. The next morning all was fine and well. Even the damned razor burn was almost gone. So putting away her birthday suit and starting her day heads outs on a long list of errands. Still occasionally wondering what caused the condition.

Could it really be a latex allergy? Around mid day things started to bother her again, the itch and splotch were back. As she stood there wondering if it was in fact time to call the doc it occurred to her as she closed the lid on the washing machine she bought a new detergent.

We’re very happy to report that the new detergent was indeed eventually determined to be the culprit. Later that evening she opted for leather but ever since she can still be seen strutting around in latex at will with no ill effects, well that is until she starts to play but those are stripes of a different color.

Body Lube, Rubber undergarments, and girls sporting provocative sayings

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Now for those of you thinking there he goes again off to the fetish shop to find a yet unattainable piece of deviant this or that to reach Nirvana, or off he goes sneaking out to the local munch to mix and mingle with the leather and pain crowd yet again but at least he knows not to wear white this time, or perhaps even outing an alternative lifestyle a bit again or participating in some St. Louis based kink convention like Spanksgiving. (Google it I didn’t make this one up)

 

I give you this. There is not a good Fetish shop in this town, if there is dime me in since I’ve been here 4 years and can usually find one in any city in the first 30 minutes.  So far no such luck and trust me it’s not for lack of trying.  Gay men may have Gaydar but I seemed to have a highly developed sense of Kinkdar.  No kink shops here thank you very much, and the Pizza sucks, damn puritans.

 

But while out the other night in a shop that caters to my completely obsessive new fetish that includes “specialty” shoes and body lube the nice girl asks me as I stare mindlessly at their wares.

 

“Do you have enough rubber underwear?” The pretty, rail thin little blonde asked again since I didn’t answer the first time.  This is the same girl that few months back was obsessing perhaps unhealthily over my feet more than an old lover with a foot thing ever did.  I was quite concerned at the time. But somehow I got over it.

 

Now I’ve been asked about a lot of things by women I don’t really know but about owning rubber underwear until that point hadn’t been one of them.  I love Latex, but not me in latex. Women in latex very sexy, me in latex well, not so much so.

 

I stare back at her ” I don’t think so” knowing damn well I didn’t own any for any purpose.  There are a lot of things I don’t own leather pants for example are for rock stars and gay bikers for example.  OK I’ll give you hunters if you are referring to brush pants.

 

She points out that they have both boxers and briefs that were obviously in plain sight somewhere in my soul I’m grateful she didn’t point out a thing option. Perhaps she assumed looking at me that I was blind or at least visually impaired from some acquired illness or jerking off incessantly.   I must have had that diseased masturbator look about me for a few moments there.

 

“Keep in mind they run a little small” She added then showing me the ones that were only rubberized in the dead center portion of ones nether region and how the rest was “comfortable lycra”.   I picked up what I came for body lube to keep from chaffing as I sweat and decided to pass on the new additions to my wardrobe.  When it gets colder out I’ll worry about freezing my balls off and getting frost bite on my member but not quite yet.

 

Great running shop and based on how lame this town is it is the first place I’d been to that sold anything rubber that was wearable by anything other than my car.  But still it’s not the same without them selling baby powder to put it on with and black beauty to make it shine.

 

 

The next morning arrives and as I head out into the 27 degree weather and I start with the body lube, it’s cold out and personally I can’t stand chaffed nipple so going from north to south I end with the arches of my feet and then head out to find an assortment of people in everything from short shots and teensy weensy tops to people bundled up for an artic expedition.

 

Now I’ve always been one for edgy phrases of bold declarations like, leather daddy, it’s only kinky the first time, or my personal favorite “Rope Slut”.  Most were in tights, the men included even though it was not the ballet or Peter Pan but my favorite was watching 4 lithe little numbers pouring out of a car that on the back window that had written across it “FAST GIRLS HAVE GOOD TIMES”.

 

In a fashion that is true to myself I found a position near the front and conversed demurely with the “fast girls” as they contorted themselves into a variety of positions fit for the karma sutra if it was published by Nike.  Scantily clad they stood there apparently so thin that their bodies had become immune to climatic changes and freezing weather.

 

Then it happened the gun went off, the mad dash began and once again I failed to keep up with the fast girls, ahh the story of my fucking life.  I could always get a fast girl but I could never really keep up with her after a while and away she went off into the distance with me still chasing after her ass, in this case quite literally.  Why should running be any different?

 

For more than a few minutes I watched and tried like hell as they pulled away from me more and more with each quick bounding stride.  And that’s when it hit me the girl in the store was not trying to sell me rubber pants to keep my Willy from freezing this winter because she cared.  It was because with a single glance and few words she had me pegged as slow.  Bitch!  Moral of the story never trust fast girls.