beyond going commando – flashing

Flesh Gordon: All right, keep your panties on.
Rhobunda Hooters: Oh I never wear any.

Flesh Gordon 2: Flesh Gordon Meets the Cosmic Cheerleaders

flashing – beyond going commando

I wrote about going commando for a Kink of the Week prompt ~ Forever Going Commando.

I even posted a prior Image du jour with the same theme.  Obviously, it’s a favorite kink of mine.

So, I couldn’t help putting together one more image of the day on the subject.  Not dedicated just to going commando, but focused also on it’s cousin – flashing.

Flashing is another level of difficulty beyond merely going commando.  Not only does it require going naked under clothing, it also means wearing revealing enough clothing to show it off.

And, it requires the audacity to show off that nakedness.


Forever Going Commando

Kink of the Week Aug 16-31

forever going commando

I love lacy and frilly panties.  It could even be said that I have a fetish for women’s undergarments.

I love lingerie that much.

Yet, I don’t allow the women who serve me to wear panties while in my service.

It could be said that they are forever going commando.

Knowing my predilection for beautiful panties, my choice might seem strange.  Even counterproductive

If I love lingerie so much, why would I deny my consensual slaves the ability to wear them?

Why would I refuse myself the pleasure of stripping them off?

Or, sniffing them, to savor my woman’s delicate perfume?

Perhaps even using a slave’s own panties on her as a gag?

Like so many things in life, the answer is complicated.

You ladies ought to know-going commando? That’s sexier than leather and lace and whips and chains all put together. Emma Chase

going commando is Michael’s Way

At it’s essence, asking women who serve me to go without underwear is about power.

Enforcing a dress code, of any sort, is a powerful form of control.

Without a doubt, taking hold of control is one of my fetishes.

Upon accepting me as Master, I tell a woman that her pussy belongs to me.  Part of feeling that control on a daily basis is my restriction on panties.

Knowing that at anytime I can reach up and touch what is mine.  Having that control, whenever I should wish, is not only powerful, it feels sexy.

I also very much love feeling up a submissive, a hand under her skirt, in a public place where she is helpless to react.

And, as much as I love lacy underthings, I also love the sight of a bare pussy.  I’ve always been a bit of a voyeur.  So, catching even a glimpse of bare pussy under a skirt is a rare thrill.

As far as I’m concerned, going commando is a great fetish.  One I heartily endorse.

And what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.  As this is written, I’m not wearing any underwear myself…

I always appreciate your comments and likes…
And, feel free to tweet, or follow me, at Twitter – @MichaelSamadhi

Image du jour | 8-31-17

It is okay to bend over to get your pom pons?
Remember that the football team is behind you…

Laur Laur, Slidell, Louisiana

Kink of the Week this week is “Going Commando“.

I’m working on a post for that topic today.  And, I thought this “commando cheerleader” image would be a good companion…

Rain Speaks… It Calls Me

Kink of the Week July 16-31

Getting wet in the rain
Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet. Roger Miller

The splatter of gentle rain against a tin roof.  Soft patterns of percussion overhead.

The even tonality of an overcast sky.  It’s soft diffused light.

The fresh smell only rain can provide, unlike any other.

Rain is a sensuous experience.  Or, it can be.

If only you allow yourself to feel it.  Really feel it…

I love the rain. I want the feeling of it on my face. Katherine Mansfield

I love the power of Nature, in all its aspects.

I’ve always felt the power most strongly away from the works of man.

In the woods.  On a shore.  Standing at a canyon’s precipice.

I once lived in a National Park for a year.  It was glorious.

But, no matter where I am, no matter what I might be doing, rain connects me to nature’s majesty and strength.

The rain began again. It fell heavily, easily, with no meaning or intention but the fulfillment of its own nature, which was to fall and fall. Helen Garner

The vital power of rain speaks to the primal within me.

It awakens my senses.  And, it arouses my desires.

The Tantric and the Master within me both revel in the energy rain provides for play.

Soak it up.

Soak it in.

Life is the fire that burns and the sun that gives light. Life is the wind and the rain and the thunder in the sky. Life is matter and is earth, what is and what is not, and what beyond is in Eternity. Lucius Annaeus Seneca

desert showers

I went to the desert, and there I found rain.

The skies opened up.  It rained for days until the sand itself became saturated.

We walked and laughed in the rain at first.  Joking about being beavers, we dammed a little stream in what was usually a dry desert gully.

The sprinkles from the sky came down harder.  Then harder still.  Soon, they were no longer sprinkles at all.

The dam burst.  Beavers would have done better, I’m sure.  So, we walked and laughed again.

I’ll share a little secret I learned that day.  Don’t start a walk in the rain with the wind to your back…

We wandered for about an hour, then we turned, and headed for home.

The skies opened up.  Water poured down harder and harder.  The wind picked up.  Nature’s power can be unrelenting.

It felt like my face was being scoured by the rain.  My fancy raincoat soaked thru and stuck like a second skin, colder still than my own.

Arriving at camp, we shed our clothes, quickly.

I will always remember the rain beating down on my naked skin, like a full body shower. 

Save a boyfriend for a rainy day – and another, in case it doesn’t rain. Mae West

finding bliss

We nearly knocked each other over crawling into the tent at the same time.  Both seeking the warmth of our bedroll.

Inside the confines of our tent, snuggled into a giant sleeping bag together, Bliss and I smiled and laughed some more.

The sound of rain beating on the tent roof was hypnotic.  So was her naked body.

We made love.

It was glorious, intense, and satisfying.

We lay together then for another hour, listening to the storm, basking in the glow of our lovemaking.

Time seemed suspended.  We lay together almost as if in a trance.

The afterglow continued, as did the storm.  But, the feeling of being sexually sated drifted away.

We explored each other’s bodies again.  Perhaps less frantically, but still filled with the rain’s sensual energy.

Still more fully satisfied, the sun’s glow receding, we fell asleep with the dusk. 

Rain, whose soft architectural hands have power to cut stones, and chisel to shapes of grandeur the very mountains.

Henry Ward Beecher


I came semi-awake, in the dark, to a roar.

A deep rumbling.  Earth lightly trembling under me.

The sound of rain falling on the tent was still present.  But, this was deeper

A grip of fear struck me for a second as I fumbled for a flashlight.

I’d always wanted to witness a flash flood in the desert.  But, not like this.  Not in the middle of the night.  Not while camping in an isolated campsite.

Grabbing the flashlight, I wandered off into the night, moving towards the rumble.

Sure enough, the arroyo we’d been playing in was flooding.  A solid wall of red-brown water filled the gulch.

The water surged and rolled like an angry beast.  The closer I got, the louder the sound.  Large boulders, heavier than Bliss and I could lift together, were rumbling in the stream.  Rolling and crashing like dice being tossed.

Then I realized we were stranded.  The only way out crossed another similar ravine.  I could hear a muffled roar in that direction too.

If the water got any higher, our camp was in danger of being flooded.

What to do?

Certain emotions just take you to the notes – being furious, heroic, sad, erotic, when rain comes.

Jeff Buckley


Rain pouring down on me, I scurried back into the tent.

There was Bliss, awake now herself.

I explained the flood.  I told her about the boulders rolling and tumbling against each other.  She could hear the roar, feel the ground’s vibrations.

What to do?

“Let’s fuck!”

Fuck the rain, the storm.  Oh, fuck the flood.  Just fuck it all.

Hey, let’s just fuck.

We did.

Rain is grace; rain is the sky descending to the earth; without rain, there would be no life.

John Updike


When the morning came, the storm had passed, only light rain remained.

It was three days before the dirt road to our campsite opened back up.

When it was over, I was raw.

Anytime we lacked a purpose, anytime we lacked a plan, one of us would ask the question…

“What do you want to do now?”

“Let’s fuck,” became our refrain.

It took us all three days to work off all the energy we’d absorbed from our walk in the rain.  The power infused from the ground trembling beneath us.

What glorious days they were…

The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A Ticklish Subject – Is “M” for Maschalagnia?

A Ticklish Subject – Is “M” for Maschalagnia?

This entry is part 11 of 12 in the series Kink of the Week

Serafina and I just adore Jade and her blog, Kink and Poly.

So much so that we named her among our biggest inspirations in the post “I” is for Inspiration and Influences.

But I can’t say that I’m terribly enamored of her topic choice for this particular Kink of the Week.  Sorry Jade . . .

Armpits?  Really?

Instead of maschalagnia, why not merinthophilia 1  instead?

I could talk about rope and bondage forever.

But armpits?  Not so much.  Armpits are a ticklish subject!

I’m committed to tackling my kink of the week, every week, but this is not an easy one for me.  There’s just not much there . . .

Do you find yourself sexually attracted to armpits?

Not really.  I love a woman’s body, all of it, but armpit’s aren’t a big deal for me.  I enjoy tickling, and that can include armpits.

Is it the smell? Is it the sight of them?

I’m not the kind of people that’s offended by a fellow human that’s not freshly bathed.  I was an athlete.  With that said, I love a soft freshly bathed body, so it’s not like armpit smell is an aphrodisiac.

Looking at armpits doesn’t do a whole lot for me.  I just flashed my bare armpit at Serafina and asked if she got all hot and bothered at the sight.  She giggled . . . Not so much for her either I guess.

What about hair? Do you prefer shaved?

Vive la différence I say!  I don’t shave mine.  Serafina shaves hers.

She plucks her pussy though, maybe I should make her pluck her armpits too . . .

Jade, I’d like to thank you for this thought provoking subject . . .

Have you ever done sexual acts that involve the armpits?

The answer is no.  I thought really hard, trying to remember tickling a girl’s armpits while we fucked.  I still had nothing.

Do you worship them?

Really?  Really?  Nah, I don’t think so . . .

Maybe you don’t like armpits at all?

I’m not anti-armpit.  It’s not that I dislike the humble armpit, I bear them no ill will.  They just aren’t my thing.

I guess, if I learned to properly torture armpits (I have used clothespins there once or twice, now that I think of it) I might appreciate them more.  Ya, that’s the sadist talking . . .

Let’s talk about pits!

I already gave about all there is.  <calls to slave with wicked new torture! you are going to love this one more than being tied up and having your pussy plucked with pliers!>

Is “M” for Maschalagnia?