Tag Archives: latex

A Dance in the Cage

 

A Dance in the Cage

You know the girls dancing in those cages at clubs? Sometimes on a pedestal, sometimes suspended over the raving crowd? Ever wondered how they ended up there and what makes them move all night?

Despite the allegedly soundproof glass Bianka felt the vibrations at her eardrums, in the pit of her stomach, in the tip of her pen. The bass pounded its way through every structure, item and living being in the whole building. It was the heartbeat of the club, and with the small hours of the night being near it was hammering wilder than ever. If the owner, manager and icon of Club Noir were to turn around from her desk, she would be able to overlook the main floor through the glass wall of her office. She would see the fetish folk celebrating its own depravity, loosing itself in the dark world the legendary Bianka Schönfeld provided. A world of masks and collars, of monogloves and hobble skirts, where leather was the new lace and black the new black. To the left the long cool-lit bar ran in a wide arc alongside the clubbing area, which in turn bordered at the right on the VIP lounge. Further in the back the entrance to the lower levels awaited those in search for more titillating activities. The rooms for this spicy kind of entertainment were soundproof, for sure. Continue reading

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Pony Boot Camp — Part Thirty-Nine

Rubberise It!

As expected I was haunted by nightmares. Most scenes blurred into intangible phantasms of blood and screams upon waking. One dream sequence remained clear: me running about the camp and the waterfall, desperately trying to find Ten’s clothes.

At precisely early as fuck o’clock we were standing in the dark and cold for the little fall-in, our group leader facing us. A light yet persistent rain was coming down, and Kandrin wore a DACC issued rain cape far too wide for her small frame.

“Better get used to the weather. Autumn in these regions is fickle.”

She kept fighting with the rim of her hood, which again and again fell over her eyes.

“But what’s a bit of rain, right?” Continue reading


Selfie (a.k.a. Rogue Tie)

Selfie (a.k.a. Rogue Tie)

You are always so good at making lists, Becca!

This is a compliment I hear a lot from colleagues and friends alike. Always meant sincere, it does have a backhanded element to it. It labels me organised, bureaucratic, predictable. Rebecca, the Excel Queen. Rebecca, mind you. Not Bec or Beckie. Not Becca, either. But people are so quick with shortening my name. Just as quick as with making list-related compliments.

A list, then – old-fashioned with pen and paper, in my girly handwriting:

  • Restrains, 3 pairs (handcuffs, elbow cuffs, hobbles)
  • Latex hood
  • Ball gag
  • Posture collar
  • Nipple clamps

Continue reading


Fashion Faux Pas

Fashion Faux Pas

Bianchetti had always been her first port of call during window shopping, and on today’s spree the exclusive boutique near the city’s financial quarter was confirming its status once again. Behind the glass façade, amidst LBD’s, designer clutches and outré court shoes Lorena discovered the short-sleeved top on one of the highly stylised mannequins. At first glance the item didn’t awake her interest. But then her eyes wandered back, and it intrigued her due to its unusual material. It was made of latex. Continue reading


Play Time

Play Time

“I’ve got special plans for this weekend,” Biri purred.

It didn’t take too much imagination for Leif to determine what those plans would be. His girlfriend’s outfit made some very clear statements in that regard.

“Can you even breathe in this, sweetie?”

“As long as I don’t laugh,” she chuckled and let her latex-gloved hands slide along the skimpy rubber dress and tightly-laced corset. Kneeling in front of him in their living room, Bérénice was a picture of enthusiastic submission, ready to have her photo printed in a BDSM textbook. Continue reading


Dorei

Dorei

Box

The box had arrived just in time. Nakamura’s two “gentlemen” went to work unloading it as soon as the garage’s roller shutter had closed behind the inconspicuous white delivery van. One of them I knew by name: Tanaka, a ridiculously muscular bloke in an ill-fitting jacket. He was beyond any doubt capable of dragging the box alone. Hence his scrawny new colleague was rather latching onto the wooden crate while it was pulled out of the van. Continue reading