Kink of the Week – Clothed Top Naked Bottom

Kink of the Week – Clothed Top Naked Bottom

This entry is part 1 of 12 in the series Kink of the Week

WARNING – this post contains nudity and is very much NSFW as well as unsuitable for minors – if you aren’t of legal age to view this – go away!

considering the clothed top naked bottom

Clothes make the man, or so it’s said.  As with most old adages, there’s more than a little truth to the saying.  Obviously that’s also true in my case when discussion turns to the topic – Clothed Dominant Naked Submissive.  I actually find that clothes are a significant element of what sets me apart from a good number of other dominants in the average Midwestern small town dungeon.  Believe me, I’m not trying to brag on my sense of style here, anything but in fact.  I always considered myself to be fashion challenged, to be quite honest.  But, somewhere between the age of 35 and 50, I realized that the clothes a person wears really does make a statement.   And, it should also be said that setting myself apart in our local play spaces is not as hard as you might think, essentially it means eschewing the “jeans and black t-shirt” look as my primary form of dungeon attire.

I suppose it’s also true that lack of clothes makes the slave, although I’m thinking that’s not exactly an age-old adage. With that said, when paraded about naked, my slave/wife Serafina’s lack of clothes in a dungeon is somewhat less than distinctive slave-girl attire.  Serafina has a beautiful body, certainly worth admiring when on display, so please don’t misunderstand.  As the introduction to the current Kink of the Week discussion points out,  a clothed male with naked female seems to be more the norm than the exception among kinky types.  So, in our case, the “clothed top naked bottom” can never raise to the level of a fetish, contrary to the Clothed Female Naked Male fetish that was the original topic for this week’s discussion.

it’s not the destination . . .

So, while my clothes may be distinctive for our locale, they sure aren’t anything special in larger venues.  I’m really just another guy with a submissive lady when we are away from home.  And while a naked Serafina truly is a sight to behold, neither of us is getting younger.  She’s not some 20-year-old whose selfies make it to Kinky and Popular over at Fetlife.  If we were a vacation destination, we certainly wouldn’t be Disneyland.  And, wouldn’t even make it to the level of a sad Atlantic City during depressed times.  We aren’t a destination at all, in terms of comparing our lives to a locations, Serafina and I are the boondocks!

But, as I’m fond of saying – The destination isn’t what matters, it’s the journey!  And pondering that point has got me thinking.  I do know what’s special about Serafina and I, in terms of considering the “Clothed Dominant Naked Submissive” topic.   It’s not my attire that makes us special, nobody’s going to be asking me to walk a runway in a leather contest anytime soon.  And as beautiful as she is, it’s not Serafina either.  Instead it’s the journey to that particular local.

What’s special here at House of Samadhi is the journey, it’s all about how we get to the point where Serafina and I portray the clothed dominant naked submissive . . .

it’s the journey!

Along my own journey, the latest fetish I’ve developed is to strip Serafina (or any other willing victim for that matter) with big sharp knives.  It’s not so much the final destination of a naked quivering slavegirl at my service, it’s the act of getting there.   I’ve grown to absolutely love stripping my Serafina down to a naked condition using knives, machetes, or even swords.  Yes, we have lots of fun once she’s naked too, but getting there, it’s at least half the fun.  With that in mind, I’m about to present the House of Smadhi “getting there” version of Clothed Top Naked Bottom.

Note – there are bonus “click-thru” images associated with each picture, in fact most of the best photographs are the “pictures behind the pictures”.

blade on bed

We begin with my lovely slave/wife Serafina bound and gagged at the foot of my dungeon bed.  Please note the 27″ knife laying on the bed behind her . . .

Serafina is wearing an outfit that was primarily sourced from Salvation Army.  I haven’t yet had the heart to tell her that good clothes are to be sacrificed to my new obsession (stripping submissive women with knives and machetes.)  Gag aficionados will, of course, note the drool running down Serafina’s shirt, an uncontrollable side effect of the harness gag she’s wearing.  At one time, Serafina found uncontrolled drooling from being gagged to be humiliating, not to mention unattractive.  The night we had this scene, she didn’t express any opinion on the topic.  Well, nothing more than a few murmurs and mews.

stripping serafina first cuts

The fist cuts are made, just a few slices on the edges of a sleeve to make her feel vulnerable.

Feeling the cold steel against her flesh made her mew, murmur, and moan even more than our (admittedly) one sided conversation about the beauty of a gagged woman drooling on herself.  Some folks say that gags are an acquired taste, if that’s so, they certainly are a taste I’ve grown to desire!

blade edition Clothed Top Naked bottom

Here we get to see my blade at work.  With this kind of play, Serafina has to fight the urge to squirm or pull away from the sharp blade, as I remind her continually that she needs to remain very still around my knives.

I’d like to note that we had a photographer friend on the way to record this particular scene, but unfortunately she was unable to attend due to a last minute emergency.  That’s why there aren’t more pictures of the fully clothed dominant in this Clothed Top Naked Bottom pictorial.  Suffice it to say that the clothed top (me) was also the photographer (me again).  BTW – I think we all know what’s happening to the lady photographer’s clothes the next time she comes to visit.  I do hope she reads this and knows enough to wear disposable clothes next time.  If not, she can’t say I didn’t give fair warning!

 more cuts stripping serafina

 I love anticipation.  And, I really love the anticipation that making lots of little cuts can build when stripping a submissive naked.  And, there are lots of ways to make a a lovely submissive like Serafina feel naked.  But, few have the sheer visceral impact of a pile of shredded clothes laying at her feet.  Yes, the ultimate goal is a naked submissive, but even the best striptease can’t last as long as the magic that can be worked with a sharp blade.

tits - stripping serafina on the way to clothed top naked bottom

Serafina is helpless to resist this sort of attention once I’ve started.  Not only is resistance futile, at this point it would be downright dangerous.  Sharp blades aren’t to be trifled with.

This isn’t the kind of play anyone should enter into without excellent judgement, great forethought, a bit of training, and outstanding knife handling tools.  Just last night in a different scene, a great friend of mine, AlphaBull, stripped Serafina with a wicked machete sized blade.  This morning, as he was driving home from the Hotel where we met, AlphaBull discovered two fine cuts on his own hands.  Going over the pictures today, Serafina discovered a small smear of blood (his) on a picture of her brassiere as it was being sliced away.

Alpha is an outstanding dominant.  He’s highly skilled, wonderfully attentive, not to mention having a great demeanor for a dominant to collaborate with in Serafina’s training.  He’s very careful not to ever harm Serafina, yet in doing so he cut himself twice.  That’s a perfect illustration of the risks involved here.  If one of the most skilled dominants I know can get cut during this kind of play, I don’t even want to try and imagine the dangers to everyone involved when inexperienced dominants try to emulate this kind of play.  I got started doing this sort of play with safety shears, the same kind recommended for Shibari and other forms of rope bondage.  I can’t advise too strongly that you do the same.

serafina's panty stripping

I know, most folks playing games based around a clothed dominant naked submissive dynamic want to get those panties peeled off.  I instead, want to cut them off.  We may have differences on how to get there, but once the slave is naked, the difference really is academic.  Because, when it’s all said and done, they are just as naked my way as any other.

Serafina as Clothed Top Naked Bottom

With Serafina stripped naked before me, her clothes shredded into tatters at her feet, while I stand over her fully clothed, I really do feel every possible measure of my power.

serafina naked submissive

Kink of the Week (KOTW)

KOTW Kink of the Week is a new feature here at the Joy of Kink.  KOTW  is the invention of Jade, aka PiecesofJade, aka Jade Melisande, a sex blogger and writer of erotica.  Inspired by a similar feature in a FetLife group, the idea is simply to have a single topic that kinksters of the blogosphere can discuss.  I’m going to try playing along each week, as the challenge of taking on a fresh unexpected topic a few times every month sounds like fun.

Kink of the Week, Jan 20-26: Clothed Female Naked Male (CFNM) / Clothed Top Naked Bottom / Clothed Dominant Naked Submissive

Sneakers – Kink of the Week

Sneakers – Kink of the Week

This entry is part 2 of 12 in the series Kink of the Week

naked – except for sneakers

Put on your high heel sneakers, throw that wig hat on your head.
Put on your high heel sneakers, throw that wig hat on your head.
Honey I know you’re gonna get real high, honey I know you’re gonna knock ’em dead.
~ Buddy Guy (original by Tommy Tucker) – High Heeled Sneakers

After reading my last Kink of the Week essay, discussing the clothed dominant and naked submissive, readers here at the Joy of Kink may be thinking that I keep my sweet slave/wife Serafina naked a good majority of the time.  It’s true that I have a great appreciation of the naked female form, there’s no doubt about that.  Last summer’s Twisted Tryst experience was a truly peak event for me.  I was able to keep Serafina, as well as another lovely submissive guest, gloriously naked for 4 unforgettable days of kinky erotic fun.

Naked, that is, except for sneakers.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Twisted Tryst, it’s a great gathering a kinksters, all camping together in the woods for an extended weekend of kinky debauchery.  While I’m sure a fair share of folks who attended spent the weekend barefoot, I had my girls wear shoes.  The shoes they wore weren’t fetish attire either.  A hot 90° August day in the Wisconsin woods isn’t exactly my first choice for Serafina to be modelling her thigh high leather boots.  Obviously then, my girls were wearing sneakers.

function over form

I know there are people out there who have a great appreciation for sneakers, folks who find them irresistibly alluring and incredibly desirable.  That’s not me.  I don’t consider myself to be a “shoe guy” at all.  Not that I don’t know (and appreciate) people who can spend hours looking to find just the right pair of shoes, it’s just not my personal cup of tea.

I have a good friend, a fellow 24/7 Master, who is into shoes.  Everything his slave wears is important to him, he chooses every stitch of her clothing.  In addition to foundation garments and all the trappings of a proper old-fashioned lady, she’s nearly always attired in some sort of fashionable high heel too, picked from an extensive selection.  Taking a tour of treasure’s closet is more than a bit overwhelming for a guy like me.  It’s really not that far from the total “shoe store experience”.  I’m not even sure how they keep track of them all, although I’m sure they do.

It’s probably no struggle at all for them, as in Gaspar’s house, shoes matter.  In my house, shoe’s aren’t so much a fashion statement, but instead are much more a matter of function.  Please don’t misunderstand, I understand the allure of a beautiful pair of high-heeled shoes.  When I met her, Serafina had nothing of the sort.  Now, at my bidding, she has some very nice shoes worthy of wear with fetish attire.  Serafina’s even learning to walk in them!

sneakers – not for work, for scenes

I imagine that Gaspar’s treasure might have a pair of sneakers, for yard work perhaps.  If that’s true though, I should add that I’ve never seen them.  I’d imagine that her Master would turn many shades of pale if his slave were to wear sneakers to entertain, not to mention for a scene.  That’s his standard, and I do think it’s admirable, in some ways I wish I had that kind of dedication to requiring my slave to always look her best.  Sadly though, I somehow lack the proper motivation.  It’s not the standard in my house, and probably never will be.

Of course, when I met Serafina, it was clear that she had plenty of sneakers.  It’s safe to say, she still does.  While I don’t consider them to be her sexiest foot attire, they even have a place in one of our “dungeons”.  One of our favorite venues to play is a remote location forever embedded in Samadhi lore as the Kinky Kabin.  The rustic atmosphere of the Kinky Kabin is pretty much without compare, and the scenes that happen there are always incredible.  But, the bare wood floor has more than it’s share of splinters, and that’s where the sneakers come into play.

Sneakers-in-a-BDSM-Scene

 

My friend Alpha, who sometimes lends a hand with Serafina’s training, is wielding the flogger.  And there is Serafina in all her glory at the Kinky Kabin.  Naked as the day she was born, except for her sneakers.

Who said sneakers weren’t dungeon attire?  Certainly not me!

Kink of the Week (KOTW)

KOTW Kink of the Week is a new feature here at the Joy of Kink.  KOTW  is the invention of Jade, aka PiecesofJade, aka Jade Melisande, a sex blogger and writer of erotica.  Inspired by a similar feature in a FetLife group, the idea is simply to have a single topic that kinksters of the blogosphere can discuss.  I’m going to try playing along each week, as the challenge of taking on a fresh unexpected topic a few times every month sounds like fun.

Kink of the Week, Jan 27-Feb 2: Sneakers

Giddyup, Whoa!  Pony Play!

Giddyup, Whoa! Pony Play!

This entry is part 3 of 12 in the series Kink of the Week

Pony play is the Kink of the Week (KOTW) topic for the week of February 3rd through 9th.

Being the pretentious S.O.B. that I am, my preference for naming the fetish would be “equine eroticism” rather than pony play.  But, that’s just how I am.  Most folks would be happy to call our friend Lexxi by that name, it’s what everybody calls her.  I find that I simply have to use her full given name, Lexxilicious A. Derrière.  I just have a thing for formality.

Now to be honest, nobody but yours truly calls pony play by the name equine eroticism.  It’s a term I made up.  Some other folks arrived at the same name independently, as a quick Google search found no exact matches except for a Facebook page titled “Equine Eroticism”.  It has all of 2 members. I did check to make sure I wasn’t one of them, so I guess there are three of us who use that phrase as an alternative for pony play.  I’m not positive, but I think Arlo Guthrie says (in Alice’s Resturant) that three folks with an idea is enough for an organization (it takes fifty to make a moment he says) so it does appear the idea is on it’s way.

I just happen to think the phrase equine eroticism has a nice ring to it.   I like it.  So, I recently decided to adopt it for use, synonymous with pony play.  Like Lexxilicious, it just seems a little more formal, and a little more dignified too.  Every town, it seems, has a sex professional working their streets named Lexxi.  But, how many have a Lexxilicious?1  Lots of folks have heard of pony play, perhaps without interest.  But offer up some equine eroticism, and who knows what they might think?

With that said, Jade didn’t ask for essays about equine eroticism.  Jade invited us to, “Get Our Kink On and talk about Pony Play!”   Serafina, who prefers the pony play phrase herself, is quick to point out that Jade didn’t say a single thing about equine eroticism, no mention at all.  Serafina grew up on a farm, and knows about the real thing.  “Hung like a horse is not a euphemism” my slave is quick to say.   No sirree!  So, without further ado, or poor attempts at humor, I bring you the Joy of Kink’s 1st entry for the KOTW topic of pony play.

I ♥ equine eroticism pony play

serafina pony play bit gagI love pony play.  At least that’s the theory.  I’ve never actually had the opportunity to partake in pony play, simply because I’ve never been close to a human equine.  I’ve met folks into pony play at events.  Some have been most impressive.  A beautiful stallion was the top prize winner at Kinky Kollege Homecoming 2013’s contest for folks who partake in pony play and other forms of pet play.  I’ve met kitties, puppies, and even equines in person.  Furries and pet players are not uncommon these days, a local Domme even had a pet play themed party last year.  But, I’ve never had a pony of my own.

The cliche would be to say – “It’s not for lack of trying.”  But, truth be told, I’ve never tried to find a proper subject for pony play.  To be quite honest, while it’s a subject of interest, pony play has never been high enough on my own kinky bucket list to become a priority.  As I find myself getting older, I find myself getting closer and closer to this kind of fantasy however, probably for that very reason.  It’s kind of a backwards sort of logic, but the more blessed I become in steady regular play, the more the fringes and edges call for my attention.

Within the last year alone, I flogged nine different women.  I once had so many three ways that they now just feel like vanilla sex to me.  I did a serious interrogation, and an extended captivity scene back back in the Fall, and plan for more.  I have a very impressive masochist that I play with on a semi-regular basis, she’s a delight who simply craves strong sensations.  To be honest, my sadistic friends are jealous, she can take THAT much.  I’m planning both a soft rape and a hard rape for a friend who’s wanting to go into the realm of consensual non-consent.  Obviously then, I’m trusted to help friends fulfill their own fantasies.

Just as it takes something exotic to provide a gift for the “man who has everything” – finding a new fantasy for Michael isn’t an easy task.  I know at least a couple of subbies I’d like to turn into pony girls, my friend Lexilicious being one of them.  I believe she’d look absolutely regal at the end of a lunge line, dressed up in equestrian finery.  The fact that’s it’s not necessarily a fetish for her makes the fantasy ever better for me.  I mean what better humiliation can I imagine for her, than to reduce the lively and outspoken girl to a beast.  Unable to speak for herself, or do anything for that matter, but react to my commands and the strike of my dressage whip.  What a delicious fantasy indeed.

long held pony play dream

bit gag pony playThat’s not my only pony play fantasy, just my newest one.  My longest held pony play fantasy goes back over a decade.  This one goes back to my days in politics, working as a community organizer.  I once marched in over 25 parades per year, that’s a lot of time looking at drill teams and Shriners driving little cars.  Sometimes, standing there in the hot sun, my mind would wander, and go to the strangest places.  Upon spying a six horse hitch, my mind amped things up into high gear.

Instead of spending my summer marching in parades for politicians and political causes, I wanted to run a six horse hitch of pony girls.  No longer would the John Deere tractors be the big hit.  No amount of real equine beauty could distract the audience’s gaze from my team of beautiful pony girls.  No firetruck’s siren would be better than the hand cranked siren attached to my chariot, all pulled by a six horse hitch of pony girls.  To my eye, that’s the ultimate pony play!

My friend Alpha has a habit of saying – “Master Michael doesn’t do anything half assed, if he’s going to bother, he goes all out” – and there’s a certain truth to it, no doubt.  Offer me a team of two pony girls – Ya that’s nice, thanks but no thanks.  A four horse hitch for pony play?  Sure OK, I suppose if I have to . . . No, damn it, if I’m going to warp young minds in a swath of moral destruction across the state’s of Iowa and Illinois, I’m going to do it right!  A six horse hitch, every pony girl decked out in resplendent finery.  Can you imagine the spectacle?  Can you imagine the stares?

I’d need four additional volunteers, two for each street side.  They would pass out flyers explaining equestrian play, pet play in general, as well as the tenants of SSC (Safe, Sane and Consensual) and RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink).   After all those years in politics, I can’t seem to let the thought of a parade go by without some public education, know what I mean? Of course Serafina could accompany me on the chariot, pulled together by our proud team.  While I wave at the crowd and crack a whip loudly over the heads of the steeds, Serafina will look pretty, and throw candy to the crowd.  After the parade, we can hold a big BDSM demo.   I’ll be showing how to rig a team of pony girls, while my friend Alpha would demonstrate the fine art of using a machete to cut the clothes off of a damsel in distress.

Yes, that’s my long held dream, a summer long pony play parade pageant.  Pretty perverted?  I’d like to think so!  (-takes bow and leaves stage-)

Riding Crop Reminisce

Riding Crop Reminisce

This entry is part 4 of 12 in the series Kink of the Week

Excluding rope, my very first BDSM toy purchase was a riding crop.  I’m not going to be shy in telling you that I bought my first riding crop something more than 25 years ago.  I know it ages me pretty strongly, but so does the grey in my beard.

More than my share of more standard sex toys like dildos and vibrators came home, and then went away, over that quarter of a century.  I’m tempted to say that legions of dildos and vibes have come and gone, but that’d probably be at least a minor exaggeration.  Still, I’ve gone through more than my share.

Funny thing is, I still have the riding crop.  I still use it too.  From one perspective, I could claim it’s been my most valuable BDSM toy.  As I’ve already pointed out, it’s by far my longest lived impact toy.  And, if I remember correctly, it cost me something like $10.  That’s not a bad price for a toy.  Thinking like a business, figuring it’s initial cost out against it’s current 25 year lifespan, the riding crop cost me one-tenth of a penny per day that I’ve owned it.  For all the fun it’s created, I can’t think of anything even close to being such a bargain.

That 25 year old riding crop was in a scene in 1991 that helped shape the course of who I am today.  It was a a scene where I realized who I truly am, and what really drives me.

What drives me isn’t money, because money’s only good to buy things.  It’s not the people who were in that fateful scene either.  One’s now an ex-wife, BlissfulTorment, she was my submissive for 15 years.  It’s been 5 years since I’ve seen or talked to that one, obviously she’s no longer relevant.  The other lady in that night’s fateful scene is still a friend, we still even use the word “love” to sign our correspondence, despite the fact that it’s been more than a decade since we last spoke in person.  I even anticipate that she’ll be joining us here at Joy of Kink as an additional author and reviewer.  Great friend, wonderful woman, we exchange wonderful emails two or three times a week, but hardly a driving force in my life these days.

No it was more than the people I was with that night.  The revelation was like a coming home.  It was about me, and me alone.  That one night, with that crop in my hands, I knew who I was.

My friend and I double teamed my ex-wife that night.  We spanked Bliss, slapping her ass with our hands.  We  whipped her with a short flogger made from latigo leather.  We used a leather strap, a hairbrush, a wooden ruler, and, we beat her butt with a riding crop.  Of them all, the riding crop was the best.  The scene lasted for hours.  It was, without a doubt, the strongest working over I’ve ever given an ass before this last year.  The color of Blissy’s butt was incredible that night.  Her ass actually reminded me of a bed of coals, glowing red and radiating heat.

It was over the glow of that fire we lit in her ass that night, that I had my revelations.

I am a dominant.

I am a sadist.

I struggled with those terms for the longest time.  White male dominance and white male privilege were things to be fought against, not embraced.  I was a political activist fighting for equality, justice, and democracy.  And while BDSM has little or nothing to do with justice, from a male dominant perspective, it’s certainly the polar opposite of democracy and equality.

I rule the roost in my home.  When she addresses me, my slave calls me “Sir” or “Master” in the most respectful tone.  She addresses me as Sir even especially when we are alone.  I direct Serafina’s actions in all ways and control her sexuality as if it belongs to me.  I choose her clothing, order her food when we eat out, and at the end of the night, I tell Serafina when to cum too.  She wouldn’t even dream of having an orgasm without my permission.

It was standing there with a riding crop in my hands, over the lady lifeguard and personal trainer who was bound to my ottoman.  It was striking her with that crop, hearing her grunt and groan, but also feeling her get wetter and wetter.  It was the heat, the glow, the power . . . the passion, the desire, and the power (again) that seduced me.  I actually fell in love with who I was that night.  For perhaps the first time in my life, I actually was ready to embrace the whole man.

I wasn’t striking her ass because I was a son trying to please his parents.  Quite the opposite.  I wasn’t striking her ass because it was one of my pet political causes.  It was (once again) the opposite of what was expected of me.  And it was fucking glorious!  It was real, it was right, and it was me!

I can’t say I’ve never struggled again with being a sadist since that time, that would be untrue.  There are times, still to this day, where I wonder why I need this outlet, why I have to be the admittedly difficult man that I am.  I only know the good Lord made me this way for a reason.  If it’s hard for some folks to embrace a sadist, hard to understand why they have the need to hurt others, imagine what it’s like to have the need yourself . . .

This is my riding crop reminisce for today, and for posterity (not to mention posteriors!)  It was only with a riding crop in my hand that I learned to embrace who I am, to love the sadist at my core.

riding crop reminisce

riding-crop-reminisce

Today’s riding crop reminisce is in response to a prompt from Kink of Week.  Click on the icon to find out who’s discussing riding crops this week.

Kink of the Week

The Joy of Kink is also joining Molly’s Daily Kiss in posting at least one image every day on our blog for the entire month of February – the February Photo Fest!
Photofest-150x150

Cold Steel Shackles

Cold Steel Shackles

This entry is part 5 of 12 in the series Kink of the Week

Some submissives find rope bondage comforting.  I’ve heard it described as feeling like a warm and tight embrace.

Others (like my Serafina) love the feel of leather cuffs, and feel much the same way about restraints made from buttery soft cowhide.  My slave finds the feel of her leather restraints very much comforting.  She often wears them around the clock except for when showering or doing dishes.  After some time wearing them, Serafina says she feels naked without the leather restraints.

The psychology of metal restraint is entirely different though, it seems.  While I have known a submissive (or two) who enjoys handcuffs and steel shackles, I’ve never heard them described as being of any comfort.  

Steel is inherently unyielding.  And, until warmed by the body, steel is usually quite cold on the skin.  The physical sensations are unique to this particular form of restraint.

Then there’s the weight.  Steel shackles (as well as some models of traditionally styled handcuffs) are weighty.  While a slave like Serafina might forget she’s wearing leather restraints, nobody ever forgets the weight around their wrists when wearing my Clejuso Heavyweight Handcuffs.  Likely the heaviest weight handcuff manufactured today, they weigh in at 47.7 ounces, or roughly three pounds!

Steel comes with special aural pleasures as well.  There’s nothing like the distinctive snick of a button-release spring-blade-knife snapping open.  Because the distinctive sound is associated with intense mind and body play, the sound can make my slave shudder, and cause goosebumps.  Handcuffs come with their own distinctive metal on metal sound, the clicking of a metal ratchet as the cuffs are closed.

Metal rattles when worn too.  So, while it’s not totally unknown for Serafina to wear her leather wrist cuffs under her winter coat while running errands like grabbing our mail, that’s just not going to happen with steel restraints.  Not only do they make distinctive noises, there’s also that heavy chain connecting everything together.

Handcuffs are not generally appropriate with jeans, or an evening gown.  Unless, that is, you find yourself in a dungeon (or police station.)  Apparently, there are circumstances where handcuffs go with everything!

 Why are handcuffs such an ubiquitous symbol of BDSM iconography?

For a symbol to raise to the status of becoming a cultural icon, it must be ubiquitous.  Handcuffs are exactly that!  While a vanilla inclined person might not recognize some of my more exotic toys for what they are, everybody knows handcuffs.

I think it’s primarily because handcuffs are such potent imagery for captivity.  We are raised on police dramas where handcuffs are used in a matter of fact fashion in nearly every arrest.  So, as a result of their common use and high visibility, the use of handcuffs is easily the most familiar form of restraint most folks have seen.

It’s also worth noting that handcuffs are commonly one of the earliest sex toys adventurous couples add to their toy-chest.  They aren’t necessarily the best choice for neophytes, but because handcuffs are are such a commonly seen method of restraint, they end up being purchased by default.  I know lots of folks who don’t consider themselves to be kinky but have a set of handcuffs in the top drawer of their nightstand.

Do you play with them?

Yes, of course, I play with handcuffs.  Metal restraints have some special qualities I enjoy using from time to time.  I’d characterize my use of handcuffs as being somewhat infrequent, rope and leather restraint are still more common.  My favorite handcuffs are the Clejuso Model 15 Heavyweight Handcuffs that I mentioned earlier.

What do you like about them?

I’ve already mentioned the special feel and sound of handcuffs.  The other thing to like about handcuffs is that they can be put on a struggling victim much more quickly and easily than rope or leather restraints.

How do they make you feel, either as a Top or a bottom?

This is a great question!  I’ve spent plenty of time pondering the effect of metal restraint on a submissive, but I’d never before thought much about the effect handcuffs have on me.

In a scene where handcuffs are used, I’m always a bit more on guard, and I’m certainly more aware.  That’s because I know that metal restraints are truly unforgiving.  A struggling victim full of endorphins could potentially cause ligament or joint damage to themselves.  So I watch carefully.  I do also enjoy the inescapable nature of handcuffs, as once I’ve locked a pair on a sub, I know she’s not going to slide out of them.

Is play with them part of a larger roleplaying scene, or are they just another implement in your kink arsenal?

When I read this question, I found myself  nodding my head up and down in agreement with both.  So, it’s a situation of using the word “and” instead of “or”.

I like using handcuffs in the context of role playing.   Almost entirely on their own, they can give a sense of being under the control of law enforcement.  Because handcuffs are relatively easy to put in place, they are great for abduction, captivity, and other similar scenarios where a struggling victim is part of the play.

And . . .

My perspective really is that handcuffs are just another implement in a Master’s arsenal of tricks.  Overall, I’m far more prone to using rope or leather restraint.  I get out handcuffs when I’ve got a specific purpose in mind.

When it’s all said and done, whether they are used for a specific role-play scenario, or whether it’s one of the unique qualities that metal restraints offer, handcuffs and steel shackles are an essential part of my kinky toy bag.  It’s quite likely  a pair will (if they haven’t already) someday play a role in your own explorations of the joy of kink.

cold steel shackles

cold-steel-shackles

Today’s post is in response to a prompt from Kink of Week. Click on the icon to find out who else is discussing handcuffs this week.
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