Rubber and Rice and All Things Nice

If you had asked me four years ago if I was into rubber, I probably would have said something like, “Eh… it’s ok, I guess?” And to be fair, I’m still on the fence about whether I have an inherent rubber fetish, or whether I now associate it with sex and violence. My first REAL intro to rubber was with Special K. For him, it’s a proper fetish, whereas for me, it’s really about reducing someone to little more than an object to be passed around and used (with consent). Rubber helps accomplish this quite nicely.

And so it was that last Friday night, after at least two weeks of not being able to get a night together, for one reason or another, that I found one tall, broody, and handsome man, naked in my bedroom and ready to serve at my command. What’s a girl to do, right?

Well…. ok, obviously you start by putting that rubber hood over his head so there’s only one small hold for breathing, and then you tie his wrists to his ankles, because it’s funny. Then, if you really want to complete the look, you’ll go ahead and put that hook in (he got me a HOOK! I love this man…) and tie it to the collar he has on. Then, much with a stew or whatever (I really don’t cook, so work with me here), you let him simmer. Just leave him there, and come back to check on him now and again. It’s the waiting and anticipation that drives him absolutely nuts. Have some sushi. Maybe a glass of wine. That’s what always makes me laugh about BDSM in the movies; most of what I do, at lot of the time, revolves around NOT doing anything. Ok, yes, there’s the sexy-fun-times, but really, there’s not much I can do to him that he isn’t already doing to himself in his own head.

So, by the time I flip him onto his back and sit on his face, he’s SUPER ready to play! I have to say, and I don’t always feel like a lot of other Dommes feel the same way, but a man thrashing around under you is probably one of the sexiest things I have ever seen. Like, in my life. Knowing that Special K will push himself to his absolute limits for me, all the while being aware that I would never really place him in any significant danger, it hugely arousing. On a scale of dark chocolate and oysters to champagne being poured over nipples, I would say it’s definitely in the “nipple zone” (it’s taking all my willpower NOT to make a ‘Danger Zone’ joke, so you’re welcome).

Like some perverted Pavlov’s dog, I now associate the smell of rubber and latex, with the thought of dehumanising Special K, and abusing his very sweet little body. Pulling on his nipples while I ride his face, or pressing his head into a pillow while I slip slowly and wetly inside of him with my strap on. If you’ve ever pegged a man who loves it, who LOVES his sexuality, not just sex, in a way that makes you want to explore every aspect with him, then you know the sounds he can make when he’s finally living his desires.

And I love him so much, that I didn’t even blink an eye when he called out for “Ed” when he came…. đŸ˜‰

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