Archive for January, 2014

If the shoe fits…

Posted in Kink with tags , , , , , on January 27, 2014 by michella74

I’ve written a bit about my masochism, but I realized that I haven’t shared much about my other fetishes. It’s time to remedy that so I’ve chosen to write about my most obvious (for anyone that knows me) fetish first.

SHOES!

$995.00 Christian Louboutin heels that I adore.

$995.00 Christian Louboutin heels that I adore.

I don’t just mean high heels either. I love flats, boots, sandals – basically anything but tennis shoes. My fetish isn’t limited to women’s shoes either. I’m just as likely to follow a pair of men’s dress shoes down the street, as I am a pair of 5″ stilletos. And yes, I’d be following the shoes, not necessarily the person wearing them. In fact, I’ve done it. I feel I need to state that my love is for the shoe, not the foot that is wearing it. People always assume that I have a foot fetish, but it just isn’t so. I don’t remember a time that I wasn’t drooling over this pair or that. I’ve never been able to walk past a shoe display without looking at each pair. The form, the artistry, the materials; it all excites me. When I see a beautiful pair of shoes I simply MUST look at them. The shoes that a person is wearing is the first thing I notice about them. If the shoes are good, I’ll continue to look. One night I stopped a woman at a bar and asked her if I could take a photo of her heels.

I also love shoes because of what they do to me. When I wear any of my 5″ heels, I stand at 6’2″. A woman that height with the kind of curves I have, gets some attention. In fact, the only time that I don’t mind being a bit of an exhibitionist is when I’m wearing a new pair of heels. I love how they make me walk, how they make me stand, how my legs look in them, how most people have to look up to me, and most importantly, how they make me feel. Wearing heels, especially if the heel is 4-inches or higher, makes me feel powerful. As a Switch, the pair of shoes I’m wearing can put me in either a Top or bottom headspace. When I wear my knee-high 4″ heeled black leather boots, I’m immediately in a mood to kick a little ass. If I’m wearing my 6″ hot pink vinyl heels, I’m going to feel more vulnerable and will easily bottom to someone because I know I can’t get away from them. If I’m wearing my oxblood Dr. Marten’s, I’m feeling tough and a little butch. But once I change into my 3″ black patent Mary Jane’s I’m a delicate flower. I think if people realized what a pair of shoes can do for your frame of mind, they’d be more appreciated.

Some shoe fetishists NEED them in order to climax. I do not. However, a good pair certainly makes things more exciting. I was in a class once presented by Midori (if you’ve never heard of her, look her up). Someone asked her to define a fetish and as she has a shoe fetish as well, she explained it something like this:
“I can think of the hottest, wildest, nastiest, best sex I’ve ever had. It’s fantastic, but if I add a pair of police boots to that? Now we’re talkin’! It was already good, but picturing those police boots as well just put it over the edge.”
That’s what my fetish is like. By throwing a beautiful pair of Steve Maddens or Christian Louboutins into the mix, the “HOT” factor skyrockets. I’ve been fucked doggy-style while my hair was being pulled in such a way that I had no choice but to stare at a slideshow of photos of women wearing heels. The fucking and the hair pulling were already amazing, but watching all those gorgeous shoes as well made the experience phenomenal.

I’ve always wondered if the majority of shoe enthusiasts are masochists. The others that I know in my community are most certainly pain sluts. I mean, think about it. When I wear a pair of 5″ heels, I’m changing my center of gravity, my toes are most likely squeezed into as much of a point as I can get them, my calf muscles are being forced to work overtime, the balls of my feet are now carrying most of my weight. It’s not easy to wear such high heels for more than an hour, but I do it at least once a week and I love it. I’ve worn shoes a half-size too small for hours simply because they were too pretty to not buy. I don’t know of any other shoe fetishist that hasn’t done the same thing. I guess we’re all a little mad. *grin*

Sometimes I wonder if part of the reason The Biker has bought me 10 pairs of shoes in the last year is that he knows how uncomfortable heels can be. He’s fully aware of my special relationship with pain, as well as my love for extremely high heels. Yes, he makes me happy by gifting me new shoes, but he also gets the satisfaction of seeing me grimace occasionally when my feet start to hurt. He knows that I have a rule about not taking off my heels until the end of the night, so he gets to watch me torture myself and then reap the rewards at the end of the evening. (Have I mentioned how evil he can be?) He and Panzer also love that my tits are at eye level for them once I’m wearing most of my heels. It gives them easy access. Most women in my acquaintance that also love heels have at least one sadistic benefactor. It’s sometimes necessary. Pretty heels are expensive! The pair of Christian Louboutins that I’m currently in lust with come with a price tag of $995.00. Yes – roughly $500 a shoe and if I had the money, I’d not hesitate. At one point, I even considered becoming a video Domme and filming custom clips in exchange for shoes.

These were all gifts. The Biker has given me nine pairs in the past year.

These were all gifts. The Biker has given me nine pairs in the past year.

As a self-proclaimed shoe whore, there are several things that make me sad. When I see a woman that cannot walk in the heels that she’s wearing, I just want to pull her aside and give her lessons. When women take off a beautiful pair of heels halfway through the night and either switch to flats or walk around in bare feet, I shake my head in disbelief. When people say things like, “They’re only shoes” or “How many pairs of black heels do you really need” or “They just aren’t practical”, I don’t even bother trying to explain. They’ll never understand. They might eventually reach a point where they tolerate my fetish, but they’ll never truly get it.

My entire shoe family as of January 2014.

My entire shoe family as of January 2014.

Am I broken?

Posted in Kink, Ruminations with tags , , , on January 20, 2014 by michella74

So this is odd.

I haven’t had a good, hard scene since July. I’ve had fingers wrapped tightly around my throat while I was being fucked. Panzer has tied me up once or twice before he had his way with me. The Biker has forced orgasm after orgasm out of me until I begged him to stop. None of this is what anyone in The Community would call a scene though – we just call it normal sex. *grin* I hadn’t really thought about it until recently, but now that it’s popped into my head, I find that I’m dwelling on it.

A year ago, I was getting a scene at least once a week. Either rope, humiliation, breath play, fear play, electrical play or canes, but now…nothing. The last scene I recall is the night Panzer and The Biker co-Topped me, made me weep, and actually use my safeword. That scene haunts me. I’ve used my safeword once, perhaps twice in all the years I’ve been playing. I’m not the heaviest masochist that I know, but I’m stubborn and I can take quite a bit of pain. That night was…different. I had asked them to make me cry, to hit me so much and so hard that I wept. They did.

But recently I can’t help but wonder if that scene broke me.

Up until this past summer, I used heavy scenes as a type of stress relief. If I was upset about something and needed to work through it, being abused was the means to an end. It was cathartic. After the scene was over, I could rebuild myself mentally as well as physically. The Biker has mentioned several times in the past couple months that he’s been craving a hard scene with me. Each time he mentions it, I’ve told him that I’m not in need of the catharsis that it provides. What I’ve realized lately however, is that I’m not being completely honest.

There is a part of me that wants it, but there is also a part of me that is, well…frightened. What if I can’t take that much pain anymore? What if I panic and safeword just a few minutes into the scene? And then, the worst fear of all…what if I don’t enjoy it anymore? Maybe I should just force myself to scene with either Panzer or The Biker (or perhaps both). I’m just not sure. What I do know is that I feel like part of me is missing. I haven’t even really felt like Topping anyone lately. Again, a year ago, I was Topping in a scene every couple weeks. It was something that I needed in order to feel sane.

In fact, that just might be the reason why I’ve felt so “off” for months. Wow…I hadn’t thought about that until just now. I’ve been having a rough time lately, feeling lost, like I’m alone. Could the lack of kink play in my life be part of the cause? This is going to require more thought. Stay tuned…

#polyproblems

Posted in Polyamory with tags , , , on January 19, 2014 by michella74

An amusing thing happened yesterday.

Panzer and I met The Biker for lunch at a fast food chain. We arrived just a few minutes before The Biker, and were ordering our food when he walked in. He came up to me, gave me a kiss and got in line just one person behind us. I didn’t even think about it. While waiting for our orders, we sat in a booth and talked. It was The Biker’s birthday, but I had arrived with Panzer, so I put Panzer on my left, inside the booth and The Biker across from me. This way, I could hold Panzer’s hand while touching the leg of The Biker with my own leg. I’m not ashamed that I love both of these men and consider them both my husbands, but I realize that for most people, our arrangement is odd, if not evil. So keeping that in mind, I make concessions when I’m out with both of them. I try to choose who I’m “with” in order to keep the stares at a minimum.

Apparently yesterday, I wasn’t as subtle as I thought.

Our order number was called and I walked up to retrieve it just moments before The Biker’s was called. When he reached the counter, the very confused young lady told him that I had just picked up our order. She had seen him kiss me. It was so cute. Part of me just wanted to whisper to her that I was, indeed, with both of them. I thought better of it and just chuckled to myself.

It did make me wonder though how many other people were attempting to figure out the relationship between us. I wasn’t making out with either of them, but I was touching them both and flirting with both of them. (Yes, I still flirt with them. We’re married, not dead.) The three of us were sharing French fries and socializing together. When we left, the guys hugged and Panzer went to my car so I could walk The Biker to his and give him a birthday hug and kiss. After driving off with Panzer, I couldn’t help but looking back to see if the people in the restaurant were staring out the window looking confused. They weren’t…not that I could see anyway.

I love having these sorts of “problems”. Two wonderful men are in love with me, and I’m in love with both of them. How awful. *grin*

More teeth, less lips.

Posted in Kink with tags , , , , , on January 19, 2014 by michella74

How to describe the sensation of teeth sinking into flesh?

For me, something completely animalistic surfaces out of the dark waters of my mind; no matter if it’s my teeth doing the biting or my flesh being bitten. I crave it. I want to be bitten. I want to bite. Deep down, in those dark places, I want to taste blood on my tongue and feel rivulets running down my skin.

I’ve had flesh between my teeth and had difficulty forcing my jaws to open again. The Biker once had the flesh between my throat and shoulder in his teeth and had to force himself to stop. My reaction was “MORE! FUCK YES! MORE!” Perhaps it has something to do with my blood fetish, or perhaps my vampire fetish, or maybe it has more to do with my masochism. I couldn’t tell you for sure. What I can say is that a bite from a partner immediately turns me on.

There is something about the pain that comes with a bite. The teeth are sharp and the sensation immediate, much like a cane. Then, even after the teeth have disappeared, there is still a dull ache, as if the teeth are still there applying pressure to my skin. I imagine people with phantom limbs experience something similar. I always find myself running my fingers over the spot, hoping to find it tender and deeply bruised. I want the marks. They remind me of the pain and pleasure. They remind me that my life was in someone else’s hands…or should I say mouth.

Biting someone else is different for me. The sadistic bitch that I try to keep reined in most of the time is let loose. I want to hear a scream, or a gasp of pain (and pleasure). I want my partner to fear me. If they beg for me to stop, it’s exciting. If they plead for more, it’s even better. However, care must be taken because I have, on more than one occassion, almost lost control and broken skin. After many years I was able to figure out that the chances of that happening increase, the longer I go without biting anyone.

I’ve often wondered how many people enjoy biting. I’m convinced that our fascination with vampires, werewolves, etc. has roots in our ancient past. We both crave and fear being the prey or the predator. It awakens those long-forgotten memories of stalking our dinner and being stalked as something else’s.

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