Sustenance

As i layered over her cellophane-wrapped fists with black duct tape, i contemplated how much of a sadistic jerk i fancied being that night.

We'd just spent a wonderful weekend day together in the city, exploring the freshly blossoming public gardens on a pristine spring afternoon. Once we arrived home from our outing, she nestled herself onto our couch in hopes of winding down, aided by her book and a curled up feline. I attended to some incomplete matters in my bureau, fully aware of what i would find back on the couch in 20 minutes time. I looked in on her, as i moved my activity to the kitchen, preparing to start the evening's repas. There she was, collapsed into a sleeping ball of beauty, her pretty mouth pursed partially open. Her breath hummed into the solemn air, its peaceful buzz reaching my ears. But alas, were it seeking some noble fraternity with my thoughts, it would feel betrayed. Instead, it would've found a twisted, malevolent factory, rapidly churning out the perverted designs i would later use to torment this slumbering angel.

Accomplishing what i needed to in the kitchen and setting the slow simmer into motion, i retreated to the bedroom and began to lay out the numerous apparatuses that i would employ. Now, there may be some of you out there who envision the delicate slumber i was about to interrupt and think my behavior selfish - and you wouldn't be wrong to think that. The part that's even more wicked is that i didn't care. By the time i'd placed the last item on the bed, my mind buzzed with electricity and that familiar, rich flavor flooded in my mouth.

"Sweetheart...it's time to wake up."

"Mmmmm...wha...what?"

"Come with me back into the bedroom."

There are those who have a parent that gave them a look when they were a child wherein they could immediately identify what was coming next. Over the years of our relationship, my girl has learned that when i summon her to the bedroom, she's not entering the chamber where she sleeps in the evening, but instead the dungeon i've constructed.

I grabbed her tiny, delicate hands and fashioned them into tight balls. I took her left hand and wound several layers of tight cellophane around it, encapsulating her digits. I then tore off long strips of black duct tape, smoothing each over her clubbed mitt, making sure no plastic wrap showed through. I asked her to try to wiggle out of it, but she confirmed what i already knew - trapped. I repeated the same procedure with her right hand, and then retrieved the patent leather hood and neck corset from its stand. I snickered to myself as i loosened the hood's laces, pondering the next 60 minutes. After properly positioning the hood and hitching up the neck corset, i said goodbye to my girl, then latched the matching blindfold over the now completed toy's head.

I took some time to enjoy the spectacle of my fucktoy. This doll who sat before me, naked, speechless, shiny black head concealing all of her features, with matching shiny immobilized hands was no longer the sleeping beauty who'd just ten minutes before been resting on the couch. This was Barbie. And Barbie needed shoes.

"Stick out Barbie's feet."

I slid the latest addition to Barbie's wardrobe onto her pointed legs, gliding the zipper to the top. My goodness, the shininess of these boots still managed to amaze me. I positioned my dolly onto the bed, on her belly, legs spread open. I latched a locking leather cuff around each of the doll's wrists, and then fastened these up onto the headboard. I grabbed the Hitachi and laid it in a supine position in between the fucktoy's legs. I placed the dormant head right against Barbie's cuntlips so that she would know it sat right there.

"Okay. Now be a good little toy and keep those legs spread. I'll be back in a bit."

Barbie grunted, indicating frustration that the magic wand wasn't animated before i departed. I scooted off to the kitchen, checking in on the meal. Everything was as i expected. After about ten minutes of additional prep work, i returned to the bedroom.

Greeting me, like a good little toy, was Barbie's glistening pussycunt, aimed upwards in the air. I grabbed the wand and turned it on, and pressed it to my dolly's naked thigh.

"Is this where Barbie wants this?"

"MMMMmmmmppph!"

"Oh? Barbie wants it higher?"

"MMMmmmmmmmmmmmmm-hmmmmmmmm."

I brought the gyrating knob within millimeters of the swollen cuntlips, holding it right there.

"Does Barbie want to feel the wand?"

"MMMMMMMM! MMMMMMM!"

"Beg, Barbie, beg."

"Mmmmmm-mmmm-mmmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!!"

I pressed the wand against the fucktoy's lips, and immediately Barbie began to feverishly grind against the implement. I held it securely in place, as the dolly's hips thrashed against the white, silicon head. Four, maybe six minutes of this, i could begin to see the glowing crimson color of an oncoming orgasm building in the toy's cunt flesh.

"Does Barbie want me to turn the wand to high?"

"mmmmmmmmmmmMMMMmmmmmmmm..." This was a deeper sound, scraping off whatever intonation the toy found on its vocal chords.

I responded by deepening my own voice, and when i spoke, i could feel the devilish grin painted all over my mouth.

"Beg. Beg, Barbie. Show me how badly the toy wants more."

Barbie thrashed on the bed, trying to shove as much of the toy's pussycunt onto the vibrating wand.

"Mmmmmmmm-MMM-MMM-MMM-MMM!!!!"

I easily interpreted this as wanting more and flipped the switch to 'high'. Immediately, hums poured out of Barbie, constantly flooding the room with sexual purrs. In my head, i counted downward from fifteen, and when i reached zero, i flipped the wand off.

"gggghhhhhhhggghghh!!!ggghh!!!"

Apparently, the fucktoy didn't approve of this. Good thing Barbie was in no position to decide.

"I've got to check in on dinner. Be a good toy, and keep those legs spread."

Barbie pleaded with me. The dolly wiggled its perky little ass in the air, drawing an illustration of where i should re-apply the fun stick that had just moments before been alive. I wasn't persuaded.

The food by now filled the air of our apartment with such robust flavors and perfumes. Stirring the pot, i concluded that we only had a dozen or so minutes before it was completed. I took out the dining china and the corresponding stemware. Meticulously, i set the table, making sure each dish and fork sat the exact distance from each other. I lit the candles for the meal, and corked the wine. I stopped and gave real thought to any details i might've missed.

Nothing. Nothing it seems.

Barbie, i thought, must be famished.

Christmas came early...or late

Ecstatic. Overjoyed. Quite frankly like a kid on Christmas Eve night. I finally heard from him.

After months of no replies to my weekly e-mails inquiring about an update, finally, my girl's corsetier got back with me. The custom patent leather neck corset and hood was finally completed. To tantalize me, he sent me a photo of it, laced onto a mannequin to shoe its full viciousness. If i could, upon viewing this picture, i would've taken a cab up to his place immediately, but, as it was, i had a wedding to attend and was heading out of town. I'd have to wait another week longer (some may say "what's another week after all this time?" and i would reply simply "uhm, another week, that's what it is.").

For those of you who recall, this contraption was supposed to be a naughty christmas gift from me to my girl last year. Twelve visits, thirty one e-mails, and countless fittings later, he'd completed the piece. We arranged to visit the following weekend. I didn't care if a monsoon hit the city, i'd trudge my way to his studio. I was going to have my toy.

When we arrived, we quickly dispatched of the most rudimentary social niceties (largely because the corsetier is an awfully socially awkward fella), not to mention i was a little peeved that he hadn't responded for so long. I scanned his long workbench on the other side of his studio, in hopes of eyeing my treasure. No such luck. The scoundrel had hidden it away from me.

"Okay, let me see it."

He gave my girl big eyes that spoke his incredulity at my tactless cut-to-the-chase manner. Without much hesitation, he opened a closet, and wheeled out the headless dress form where laced around the stem that served as its neck lay the beautiful neck corset. If i didn't gasp, i could've very easily. He produced the hood, handing it to me. I immediately responded to the tactile quality of the slick surface of the black patent leather. This was real. This item i'd envisioned, designed in my head and commissioned was finally in my hands. The garment was thick, stiff, and had considerable rigidness to it, despite its undeniable feminine qualities.

With haste, i positioned myself behind my girl, pulling her hair into a ponytail. I then slid the hood over her head. Even without doing any of the laces, the fit was exquisite. It literally was like pulling a second skin over her face, as it clung tightly to her slender cheeks and dainty chin. The lacing was simple, much easier than a corset, but i had to remind myself not to close the gap as tight as possible. We were just here for a fitting. There would be other times where i can test its tensility.

Next came the corset. I had to solicit my girl's help with this, as positioning this device was critical to a good, constrictive fit. I asked her, once i placed the chin piece over her mouth, to hold it still with her hands. It took several tries at tweaking the way it lay over her sternum before i felt comfortable with lacing it shut. Immediately, i noticed that the patent leather of the hood would cause some difficulties with exact placement because it would stick to the patent leather of the neck corset. Even once it was fully laced, the corsetier showed me that i could pull the collar even further up her neck to achieve a higher degree of immobility. I let my girl take a peek at herself in the mirror fully sussed up, and then latched the matching black leather eye mask over her ocular cavities - locking her in darkness, robed by soft, supple layers of pink, lambskin leather.

The corsetier and i spent some time examining the fit, seeing if there were any adjustments that needed to be made. I tested my girl's ability to breathe with and without the three leather buckles hitched closed on the back. Because of the restriction, she was not able to speak, only squeeze my hand to indicate any difficulties she encountered in her respiration. I was completely satisfied. More than that, i was elated. I couldn't wait to go home and play with my toy.






Here is a view of the front of the neck corset that completely covers her mouth, ending right at the bottom of her nose. Notice the pink patent leather trim that runs along the bottom and beautiful satin brocade lining. And don't forget the attached D-ring mid-neck (there is a corresponding one not viewed in the photo)





















This is a view of the back of the neck corset and the aforementioned buckles. Are they necessary? 100%.























Here is a profile view of the hood itself. The small pink slit just beneath the buckled eye mask is the only hole for her mouth.
























This is a fantastic view of the interior lining of the hood. A sea of soft pink completely surrounding her.
























Backside of leather eye mask that renders my girl completely blind.

I waited a few days before i pulled the whole thing out to suit up my girl. However, i could not keep myself from pawing it constantly throughout the day. It had such allure and charisma. It drew me to it whenever i happened to be in my bureau. I spent easily an hour just trying to figure out how best to store/display it while it wasn't being used. I couldn't quite place what about it made it so mesmerizing. It was just a garment, albeit a completely unique garment meant only for my girl. It entered my mind frequently leading up to the night i unwielded it.

Forgive the poor quality of the following photos. To say the least, i was incredibly excited, which made holding my hand steady at the camera quite difficult. I've manipulated the image to obscure the background.







I gleaned almost instantly what captivated me about the device before as i handled it. It was instantly transformative. It contained supreme power to alter the way i viewed my girl, and the way my girl viewed herself in it. Once on, once the last strap buckled, my girl vanished. The hood and corset made her my toy. I'd had only a glimpse of the cravings this object would well up inside of me before. Once on, my tempestuous urges exploded. Toy had no voice. Had no language. The blind object was wholly dependent upon me. For its safety and its purpose.

You called me a WHAT?

I was so satisfied with the overall effect binding my girl's arms to my pull-up bar had on her, that when Friday's ritual came along, i decided to employ this method once more. I could tell she was in a feisty mood, and not at all really interested in the correction that was about to be administered. As a result, i made some alterations in my head to the design i'd been fiddling with all week. I originally planned on binding her legs together at the knees so as to throw off her balance, but in receiving the bit of attitude from her, i abandoned that plan for another, more scheming.

I told her to remove all of her clothing, to place foam earplugs into her ears, and come into the den. I put on some music which i knew would throw her off. Even though the plugs would dampen what sound she heard, she'd still be able to hear when i spoke to her. When she came into my den, she showed a bit of defiance by leaving her house slippers on.

"Take those off!"

"Oh...", was all she simply said. Instantly, we simultaneously reacted to the use of the earplugs by using few, if any, words. This continued throughout the arrangement. I produced her black, leather posture collar, and instead of telling her to hold onto the front as i laced up the back, i grabbed her hand and placed it on her throat. I lifted her other hand onto her ebony hair gathered into a mound atop her head. I positioned her in front of the full-length mirror, and laced up the neck corset rigidly tight. I like to have her looking at herself in the mirror, to watch her slow transformation from dignified lady with ample autonomy to my submissive plaything. But even then, this drew up more of her defiant posture. I pointed at the mirror, to indicate that she stay focused on her image in it, and instead of simply abiding this direction, she widened her eyes as if to say: Yeah! I get it!

Much, much to be addressed, i could see. I pulled her body to right beneath the black bar spanning my doorframe. Instead of lassoing her hands together like before, i individually bound each to the horizontal bar with its own coil of jute. Satisfied that should she see fit to try to wiggle out of the binding (more defiance), i proceeded to the next stage.

Taking another coil, i ran the bitter ends through the o-rings attached on both sides of the collar, wrapped this around the front of her neck, pulling the two lengths over her mouth. Even with the presence of the rope right at her lips, the petulant girl needed illustration by my own mouth what she was to do. Opening her lips, i drafted the rope tightly through them and continued around to the back of her head. Following the high line of the corset, i criss-crossed the rope again, and pulled it sternly over her eyes, wrapping it several times to ensure her vision was impaired. I knew i'd tugged it tight, and could see that it would tax her. I wanted more. She deserved more. I knew that this whole episode would reach a point that had her in that realm where she wasn't enjoying the predicament. Put simply: i wasn't doing it for her enjoyment.

Not completely satisfied with her immobility, i took one more coil of jute and at her elevated elbows, began another wrap, which would be led over her face, at her eyes. In the empty spaces between her extended arms and her rigidly held head, i slowly coiled the rope, effectively vicing her head to her static arms. Any movements she should make while being flogged would be commuted to her entire upper torso, thus reducing any potential movement. Sighing with satisfaction, i proceeded.

Awhile back, rummaging through some old possessions in storage, i came across a mini replica wooden hockey stick that i used to play with all the time as a kid. I knew immediately when my hand found its 18 inch trunk, that i had to add it to my arsenal. It goes without saying that i enjoyed the perversity of me using a toy from my childhood to corporally punish my girl. And boy, can that thing smack!

I flailed on her backside with great force, as she cried out through the rope gag. I would jerk her body back into position, only to beat the ivory flesh of her buttocks again. Repeatedly, i pounded the flat, wooden blade on her ass, on her thighs, in between her legs, and each time, she disobediently twisted away from me. I told her that should she wish this to stop, that she might want to find a way to hold as still as she could. No matter how much i slapped with the stick, her stubbornness saw fit to remain as high as her hands above her head. I decided to take much more drastic measures.

My girl (and don't tell anybody) is incredibly, and i mean incredibly with an emphasis on the "incredible" part, ticklish. All up and down her entire body. Usually, just to be playful, i will tickle her sides to get her to squirm and giggle, but i rarely do so in a scene. It can be quite torture for her to have to endure a tickling barrage and not be able to squirm away. I started slowly, drawing the tip of the stick's handle gracefully up and down her vulnerable naked sides. She immediately sensed my motives and began to plead very vocally through the rope that i desist (doesn't she know that's precisely what i want to hear?). In response, i poked the stick into her sides, to which she writhed, leaning as far away from me as her aloft binds would allow. And then the deluge burst upon her.

Without any remorse i attacked her sides with the stick, arousing tormented guffaws from this naked bound creature's mouth. I stopped suddenly, allowing her to get her bearings, only to slap her rotund cheeks viciously with the blade. I cycled like this between the two tortures for a minute or so. During a lull, whilst gathering her breath, i heard her say something through the ropes, but i couldn't make it out exactly.

"Repeat that?"

"You aw in ath ho."

"Did you just call me an asshole?"

"Yeth."

"It's not the smartest thing to call the person who tied you to a pole and has a wooden weapon in his hand an 'asshole'."

"I dow keh."

"We'll see. Pick a number."

"Thee."

"Try again."

"Foh."

"Pick a real number."

"Telve."

Thirteen it was.

Exhibition on training

Someone mentioned to me that i don't put up enough photos, that instead i rely too heavily on words. I can buy that. Words are much easier to own and create, whereas to craft a photo i'd be proud to put up on my site takes resources and talents i do not have easy access to. But, i'm not one to turn down a challenge, so i will try to do a post (following these brief messages, of course) of pure pictoral pontification.*

Nipple training (care of Master Y):















Posture training (care of Kink.com, with an appearance by Claire Adams):





















Limbless training (care of insex.com):









Patience training:




Proper storage following training (care of houseofgord.com and charlottefetish.com):





















*My humble thanks to those whose copyrighted material i've used to try to prove my point.

more Demands

It is very evident that you require a strict, regimented structure to keep you organized, otherwise you have a tendency to forget important tasks, let requests slip, or do things incorrectly.

I want you to begin keeping lists. I want you to keep track of objects i say you need to have on hand that are easily obtainable at your grocer, hardware store or art supplies dealer. You will put this on a 3'x5', unlined notecard. You are to make the list as neat as possible, using your best penmanship, each letter finely crafted, each line perfectly straight and evened out. You are not to make any spelling errors or miscues - even a single errant pen mark or drop of ink will require you to start all over from scratch.

When this list reaches 25 items, i want you to set aside a day where you will go and fetch every single one of them.

When that day arrives, before you dress, i want you to place the following items on your bed:

- one pair of foam ear plugs
- large black butt plug
- ankle cuffs, with 1' chain
- full length, black leather, over-the-mouth neck corset
- locking steel elbow cuffs, with 1' chain
- two miniature brass bells with clasp

You are to wear (and only) the following:


- thigh-high, back-seamed stockings
- white 12-suspender lace garter belt
- 4" black leather oxford heels
- floor-length blue worsted wool skirt
- powder blue turtle neck sweater
- elbow-length black cotton gloves
- long forest-green knitted poncho
- long creme-colored scarf
- tan wool beret

Before a stitch of clothing touches your skin, i want you to place the earplugs into each ear. I want you to notice the silence you are entering. It will not cut off all sounds, but you will be removed from normal interactions. Then liberally lube your asshole, the butt plug, and slide it inside. You should apply enough lube to ensure that, while snug, the plug can squeeze out of your anal passage. This will force you to clench your cheeks the entirety of your task. Pull the stockings on, one foot at a time, making sure that the seam is straight and orderly on the back of each leg. Next, lace up your heels, tightening the laces more than you usually would.

I want you to lock the ankle cuffs on, securing the 1' chain between them. Pull on your skirt, and then your turtleneck sweater. Slide your hands inside the elbow-length gloves. Position the neck corset so that it sits just beneath your nose, covering your mouth completely, then lace it shut. Pull the neck of the sweater as high as you can.

At this point, you are to lock the elbow cuffs on, again making sure to secure their 1' chain. Over your head, pull on your poncho. I want you to then attach a bell in the midpoint of each chain. Wrap your scarf around your neck, fully concealing the neck corset. Place the beret on your head, making sure it covers your ears.

You are required to keep all chains, bells, cuffs, corsets, earplugs completely concealed.

It is obvious, you are not to speak to anyone. If anyone asks you a question, politely wave them off.

I want each item purchased, precisely as i have described them. If there is any failure to comply with this task exactly as detailed here, there will be an appropriate correction upon your return.

*this continues on here

Head trip

Tomorrow, i get to visit my girl's corsetier to discuss and review the mock-up of my latest commission. Trying to negotiate our three very cluttered schedules has been very difficult, so finally having the chance to see his progress has me very excited. What the item is, and the occasion for which it is being built adds a great deal to my excitement.

As i've expressed, i'm deeply obsessed with neck corsets. I own three different models already, but still cannot find (if it's possible at all) satisfaction with them. The act of covering over my girl's face, features and head has also imbibed my body with an impulsive energy that i frequently act upon. I will occasionally, amidst a daydream, doodle on a notepad a binding pose, an hourglass silhouette, or even a piece of equipment that forges from the alloys of my sexual appetites. One afternoon, after an intense drawing session, i studied the left margins of my office notepad to discover a rough draft of an idea for a new device.

Every year, my girl and i exchange the traditional yuletide presents in front of family, reserving for a private gift exchange one 'naughty' item. It's funny, but as is the case with most of my material infatuations, both of our sexy cadeaus tend to be something that can be used upon or worn by her. This year is no different.

My XXXmas gift (i know, *gag*) to her:



The process of designing this began several months ago, ignited by my disgust with the lacing hoods available both in the stores and online. As is the case with most mass-produced articles of clothing, what exists has no real sexiness to their design or detail - they offer only function. Not only that, but most individuals seeking such items tend to be of the male persuasion, and knowing this, the manufacturers keep their targeted audience's blocky, sharp and usually thicker features in mind when assembling these kinky textiles. Having this problem with most of the gear i've sought for my girl's delicate frame, it forced me to seek other options.

For someone who essentially seeks the eradication of their partner's attractive physical features by submerging them under layers of thick, binding material, it may sound odd that there would be a need for such extensive customization of this covering. Cloaking and then recreating as best as possible the shapes that i study and gaze at in great lustful detail - the slope that pours down over her cheek, the ridge where her jawbone meets her neck, the ever graceful but slight roundness of the back of her head - in dark leather actually goes further towards accomplishing her objectification. I've dissected her anatomy many times, over and over in my mind, dividing her into a long list of her beautiful components. Turning her head and neck into a shiny, leather-clad bust, with no evidence of the living, breathing human trapped beneath honors the summation of this list by forming from it sculpture, a work of art.

With all of this in mind, i came to Mr. S (the corsetier) and described to him what i wanted. He sketched out a facsimile that i tweaked until we reached a serviceable template. As an aside, having a willing artisan at my beck and call who can take my visions and give them three dimensions is a recipe for danger. With him on board, i'm one step closer to achieving my maniacal quest for ultimate domination (cue hysterical laughter). There are definitely aspects of this that could be trouble as i, one who suffers from serious impulsive and compulsive obsessiveness, can attest to with past experiences. My girl reflected this concern by commenting after our previous exit from Mr. S's studio, which was a routine trip for corset maintenance until i suddenly whipped out my idea for a hood without her even aware i had been contemplating it at all.

"You know, i love having him around to craft a new corset now and then, but his ability to satisfy these device requests of yours could get dangerous."

I just grinned.

During our outing tomorrow, he'll have a complete preliminary version of both the hood and neck corset (including boning) which my girl will patiently* model as he tugs, draws out or adds material to the head gear. Even this spectacle stimulates me. During this fitting period, she must stand there (and in the case of this hood and its features - silently*) while he and i comment on how it looks on her or whether it is suitably constraining. She has no currency in this exchange. Mr. S and i will negotiate any changes that should be made to the item, while our mannequin stands there quietly awaiting her fate*.


*She's a saint.

Sugasm #100

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #101? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Do you want me…?
“The shiver that runs through you tells me everything I need to know.”

Love that ass (his perspective)
“But as long as we are in here, she submits to my command; to my every whim.”

Hubb and Spoeker
“He was good for show and good in bed, but an asshole in the real world.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
125 Magazine, Alternet and Enviromentally Friendly Porn

Editor’s Choice
The very best of Sugasm…. so far

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

BDSM & Fetish
Objets d’obsession: neck corsets
Piss Slut

Objets d'obsession: neck corsets

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.