Today's post title is a reference to the comment (often attributed to Mark Twain) that the coldest winter ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. Sir and I just spent 4 days there and it was, as usual in June, chilly and windy. I know everyone wants to see more posts so I will make this one a short, quick essay.
We had a very nice time, doing very little. We were in a beautiful hotel, high atop one of the city's hills and during the day I went shopping and sightseeing while Sir went to a conference. I spent some time in the Haight-Ashbury district and toured the SF-MOMA. I enjoy its exhibits, but confess I do not care for the building. We did not have time to visit the deYoung which is one of my favorites.
In the evenings we went to dinner and once to a show. There is a huge variety of dining available in San Francisco and I must say the seafood and the Asian are my favorites, not least because I can easily manage the main course while still maintaining my burqa'd dignity.
Walking is always a challenge for me in this city, however. Sir still requires very high heels and the SF hills are a challenge at times in an outfit that routinely drags on the pavement. This was particularly so on Tuesday night when we went to a show.
Under my veil, I was dressed in the beautiful new dress Sir gave me for Valentine's. Tea length, tight bodice, flared skirt and ribbed at the waist. It is my current favorite cocktail dress. I wore it over a full enclosure skin suit in a matching transparent purple. I particulalry like this combination because the hood, sleeves, and legs of the skinsuit complement the purple of the dress perfectly. It looks as if I am a monochromatic rubberized mannequin, stepping down from a store display.
Over this I wore my blue burqa with matching gloves and knee high latex boots with 5 inch spike heels. For the evening I was required to wear the built in silencing hood and we ate a late dinner afterwards where I was allowed to remove it.
We spent our last day, before our flight back, shopping in a couple of malls and a very nice artisan neighborhood. We spent time in some galleries and Sir picked out a couple of new photographs for our collection. A couple of people snapped photos of us with their smartphones, but we did not have the opportunity to meet them or ask for copies.
I was in my red burqa and Sir was in black latex slacks and a black button down rubber shirt under a rubber jacket. The gallery people looked a bit surprised when we walked in, but each gallery seemed to warm up to us as Sir discussed different works and the possibility of acquiring something. I simply stood by, enveloped in red rubber, looking at the art...mostly photography, but some sculpture as well.
We returned home uneventfully. The flight was fairly smooth with only a short period of turbulence. As usual I was in all white, my white dress under my white burqa, an open faced hood later covered with the burqa's silencing hood.
I did have a moment during bag claim when a teenage girl sat beside me and couldn't take her eyes off my burqa. I was sitting waiting for Sir to collect the luggage. On a whim I extended my hand through the hand slit and pinched a fold of the voluminous white rubber and held it up for her to feel. She looked a bit amazed, but felt it and smiled. I think she was as amazed by the sight of my white rubbered arm and hand as by the fact that I invited her to touch and feel the rubber.
More later
Lady
Friday, June 07, 2013
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Cold Spring
Two months since since my last post and my commenters are beginning to remind me I promised more frequent writings. I apologize; there has been little to write about and much busy work to occupy me. The begging is heartrending and, were I a dominant, would be rewarded with the proper response (say, six of the best?). However, as I am sub, I bow my head and pen yet another short missive to feed the craving that, apparently, never ends.
Actually, there has been some interesting things to write about since Sir took me to the party mentioned in the previous post. Those things have kept me busy, but they have also been of such nature that I have not written about them.
First, we travelled recently London for a few days. I love London and always enjoy my time there. Sir had meetings and I had shopping to do. We always stay at the same hotel, not far from Piccadilly, and I was able to walk up and over to Berwick street to look at exotic fashions.
The day I was out for this excursion was a Friday as I recall and the weather was cool and damp; a typical London Spring day. I wore a new purple dress (Easter present) over a lavender tinted, transparent skinsuit. For the day I wore the white burqa over this ensemble along with over the elbow white gloves. The dress is short sleeved, lightly boned, and has a flaring skirt. but the skinsuit is long sleeved with attached gloves so I had a proper two glove layer over my hands.
White rubber knee boots with a 5 inch heel completed my monochromatic presentment to the world. The interior hood which, as you know, silences me by pressing tightly against my lips, was augmented with a soft rubber gag which filled my mouth. Sir insisted that, if I were going out alone, I must be totally and fully gagged as opposed to just relying on the burqa's attached silencing hood. This agreed with me as I love being gagged in public. It is so exciting and arousing to be in a crowd or in a shop and feel my mouth filled with rubber, pressed upon tightly by a well formed hood which is also limiting my vision.
Making my way through the hotel lobby was fun as I attracted quite a few stares. However, it is not unusual to see veiled or burqa'd women in London, but it is somewhat unusual to see them where I was. And they are usually in black whereas I looked like a swiftly moving white cloud as I walked steadily out of the lift and to the front door. The doorman, who had been on duty when we checked in, simply opened and held the door for me and asked if I needed a taxi. I shook my head and bowed slightly to him. I have found that a slight bow to someone speaking to me has the effect of acknowledging their words and politely ending the conversation. If absolutely necessary I have a small card I carry which explains that I cannot speak, and thanks the person for understanding. Sir printed up a set of cards with somewhat standard questions and answers for me a few years ago and I have used them occasionally. For example, there is one which asks the way to the toilet and one which thanks the person for their kindness. All start out with the simple statement, centered in the card, "I cannot speak at this time. Please excuse my silence."
But generally, no reply, written nor oral, is required from me; a simple nod of my head (or a shake) followed by a slight bow which bobs my rubber covered head slightly, is enough. Clerks, doormen, drivers all seem to understand it.
I proceeded down the road to Regent St, then 'round to Piccadilly and up to Berwick St. Berwick has fabric stores supplying beautiful and exotic fabrics from all over the world to the West end theatre district and to people who are looking for something different in textiles. There is no specific latex sheeting store, but they do have shops with vinyl, lycra, satins, and metallic, hologram prints, and wet look fabrics which look like rubber. I enjoy sewing and I was taking the opportunity to collect some unique fabrics to bring home.
Piccadilly is a busy and complicated place to navigate, particularly in flowing latex with a limited field of view. I was a bit trepidatious, but I have wandered other cities (and even London) on my own and did not expect any severe difficulties.
Reaching the end of Regent Street and into Piccadilly proper, I made my way around and onto Berwick street. This is a wonderful, lively place with the market, then fabric shops lining the street. I made my way up the street, stopping in three or four shops and acquiring quite a few meters of exotic fabrics. One shop, I was surprised to find, actually did carry latex sheeting for fashion.
I am of the community which applauds the entree of latex into the mainstream of fashion. I do not believe our fetishistic passions are at all diminished by the appearance of latex skirts on the runway or of latex hoods in the high street.
The shop clerks were quite friendly, leaving me to browse but helpful if I needed it. Communication was a bit challenging, of course, but I made myself understood. None seemed terribly surprised nor put off by helping a woman in white burqa and two or three fingered it with sincere curiosity. One young lady in hijab rattled off at me for a moment in what I assumed was Arabic. I showed her my "English Only" card and her eyebrows widened, but she switched to English to ask me how many meters of a shiny wet look Lycra I desired.
I made my purchases and arranged for the fabrics to be delivered to our hotel. From there I went on up to Oxford St and did a bit more window shopping before hailing a taxi to take me back to the hotel. This, of course, involved more silent communication, but before embarking on these little outings sans Sir, I always acquire a business card from the hotel and it as a simple matter to inform the driver where I needed to go.
Later that evening, in my metallic blue burqa, with a blue tinted skinsuit and a stunning metallic blue evening gown beneath, we went round to a seafood restaurant not far from the hotel. Sir reminded me of a time in the late 90's when we went to the restaurant Pharmacy in the same area. It was a remarkable place, extremely stark and clinical in decor, but with wonderful fish. Sadly, it is gone now although I understand its investor, Damien Hirst, did quite well. Sir actually bid on some of the artwork from the restaurant when it came up for auction, but did not win any of the pieces.
I was allowed to eat under the burqa, my silencing hood removed for the occasion so I only had the skinsuit's light, blue tinted, transparent rubber hood covering my head, fitted to the contours of my face like a slick rubber glove. I must say, do enjoy the feel of a thin rubber hood against my face, then covered by the light touch and feathering of the burqa as it moves with my body. It touches my cheek, my forehead, and my nose ever so lightly and sets them quivering beneath he soft, gentle embrace of the thin, almost diaphanous, slickness of the skinsuit hood.
The view from inside the burqa is dark and private, with little flashes of sight perceived through the filter of the pepperpot eyeholes. I always find myself touching my rubbered face beneath the burqa as we sit in a restaurant, I with a small plate of food inside my rubber tented world.
We spent a few more days and nights in London, even traveling over the weekend to the Cotswolds for a short day trip. I shall write a bit more of that later.
I shall cut this short here. Suffice it to say that we had a wonderful time in London, saw some old friends, and ordered new clothing made.
Actually, there has been some interesting things to write about since Sir took me to the party mentioned in the previous post. Those things have kept me busy, but they have also been of such nature that I have not written about them.
First, we travelled recently London for a few days. I love London and always enjoy my time there. Sir had meetings and I had shopping to do. We always stay at the same hotel, not far from Piccadilly, and I was able to walk up and over to Berwick street to look at exotic fashions.
The day I was out for this excursion was a Friday as I recall and the weather was cool and damp; a typical London Spring day. I wore a new purple dress (Easter present) over a lavender tinted, transparent skinsuit. For the day I wore the white burqa over this ensemble along with over the elbow white gloves. The dress is short sleeved, lightly boned, and has a flaring skirt. but the skinsuit is long sleeved with attached gloves so I had a proper two glove layer over my hands.
White rubber knee boots with a 5 inch heel completed my monochromatic presentment to the world. The interior hood which, as you know, silences me by pressing tightly against my lips, was augmented with a soft rubber gag which filled my mouth. Sir insisted that, if I were going out alone, I must be totally and fully gagged as opposed to just relying on the burqa's attached silencing hood. This agreed with me as I love being gagged in public. It is so exciting and arousing to be in a crowd or in a shop and feel my mouth filled with rubber, pressed upon tightly by a well formed hood which is also limiting my vision.
Making my way through the hotel lobby was fun as I attracted quite a few stares. However, it is not unusual to see veiled or burqa'd women in London, but it is somewhat unusual to see them where I was. And they are usually in black whereas I looked like a swiftly moving white cloud as I walked steadily out of the lift and to the front door. The doorman, who had been on duty when we checked in, simply opened and held the door for me and asked if I needed a taxi. I shook my head and bowed slightly to him. I have found that a slight bow to someone speaking to me has the effect of acknowledging their words and politely ending the conversation. If absolutely necessary I have a small card I carry which explains that I cannot speak, and thanks the person for understanding. Sir printed up a set of cards with somewhat standard questions and answers for me a few years ago and I have used them occasionally. For example, there is one which asks the way to the toilet and one which thanks the person for their kindness. All start out with the simple statement, centered in the card, "I cannot speak at this time. Please excuse my silence."
But generally, no reply, written nor oral, is required from me; a simple nod of my head (or a shake) followed by a slight bow which bobs my rubber covered head slightly, is enough. Clerks, doormen, drivers all seem to understand it.
I proceeded down the road to Regent St, then 'round to Piccadilly and up to Berwick St. Berwick has fabric stores supplying beautiful and exotic fabrics from all over the world to the West end theatre district and to people who are looking for something different in textiles. There is no specific latex sheeting store, but they do have shops with vinyl, lycra, satins, and metallic, hologram prints, and wet look fabrics which look like rubber. I enjoy sewing and I was taking the opportunity to collect some unique fabrics to bring home.
Piccadilly is a busy and complicated place to navigate, particularly in flowing latex with a limited field of view. I was a bit trepidatious, but I have wandered other cities (and even London) on my own and did not expect any severe difficulties.
Reaching the end of Regent Street and into Piccadilly proper, I made my way around and onto Berwick street. This is a wonderful, lively place with the market, then fabric shops lining the street. I made my way up the street, stopping in three or four shops and acquiring quite a few meters of exotic fabrics. One shop, I was surprised to find, actually did carry latex sheeting for fashion.
I am of the community which applauds the entree of latex into the mainstream of fashion. I do not believe our fetishistic passions are at all diminished by the appearance of latex skirts on the runway or of latex hoods in the high street.
The shop clerks were quite friendly, leaving me to browse but helpful if I needed it. Communication was a bit challenging, of course, but I made myself understood. None seemed terribly surprised nor put off by helping a woman in white burqa and two or three fingered it with sincere curiosity. One young lady in hijab rattled off at me for a moment in what I assumed was Arabic. I showed her my "English Only" card and her eyebrows widened, but she switched to English to ask me how many meters of a shiny wet look Lycra I desired.
I made my purchases and arranged for the fabrics to be delivered to our hotel. From there I went on up to Oxford St and did a bit more window shopping before hailing a taxi to take me back to the hotel. This, of course, involved more silent communication, but before embarking on these little outings sans Sir, I always acquire a business card from the hotel and it as a simple matter to inform the driver where I needed to go.
Later that evening, in my metallic blue burqa, with a blue tinted skinsuit and a stunning metallic blue evening gown beneath, we went round to a seafood restaurant not far from the hotel. Sir reminded me of a time in the late 90's when we went to the restaurant Pharmacy in the same area. It was a remarkable place, extremely stark and clinical in decor, but with wonderful fish. Sadly, it is gone now although I understand its investor, Damien Hirst, did quite well. Sir actually bid on some of the artwork from the restaurant when it came up for auction, but did not win any of the pieces.
I was allowed to eat under the burqa, my silencing hood removed for the occasion so I only had the skinsuit's light, blue tinted, transparent rubber hood covering my head, fitted to the contours of my face like a slick rubber glove. I must say, do enjoy the feel of a thin rubber hood against my face, then covered by the light touch and feathering of the burqa as it moves with my body. It touches my cheek, my forehead, and my nose ever so lightly and sets them quivering beneath he soft, gentle embrace of the thin, almost diaphanous, slickness of the skinsuit hood.
The view from inside the burqa is dark and private, with little flashes of sight perceived through the filter of the pepperpot eyeholes. I always find myself touching my rubbered face beneath the burqa as we sit in a restaurant, I with a small plate of food inside my rubber tented world.
We spent a few more days and nights in London, even traveling over the weekend to the Cotswolds for a short day trip. I shall write a bit more of that later.
I shall cut this short here. Suffice it to say that we had a wonderful time in London, saw some old friends, and ordered new clothing made.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Weekend Party
This past weekend Sir took me to a private party for latex fetishists. He has communicated with the couple we met in the mall and it turned out they were going to this get-together. An invitation from the host of the party appeared in Sir's inbox a few days later. We barely had time to plan, but managed somehow. He thought you might enjoy reading about some of our time there.
The venue was a large private home in a town north of us. There were about 15 people (7 couples and 1 threesome) and our hosts provided rooms for everyone. The only requirement was to be in latex all the time from arrival Friday afternoon until leaving Sunday afternoon.
We drove up on Friday with me in my blue burqa over a blue dress, hood, gloves, stockings and tight black 7 inch spike heel knee boots. Under the dress I was in a transparent blue skin suit with eye, nose, mouth openings and the crotch had entry holes for filling with plugs front and rear and for accessing genitals. The zipper on this skinsuit does not go through the crotch. Sir was in black latex slacks, shirt, and jacket.
Arriving guests were shown to their rooms (the house has 10 bedrooms) and the rule of the house explained again. All latex all the time. No one was to be seen in anything but rubber until after noon on Sunday. Showing skin was OK, but no other material was to be worn. Everyone was fairly local and many arrived in latex as we did, driving into the country rather than flying to a nearby airport and renting.
Our hosts were dressed in very extreme rubber and she, in particular, appeared in bondage throughout the weekend. She was at least 6 feet tall in her bare feet, large breasted with a slender waist moving into perfectly sized hips and buttocks.
Over the weekend, she wore several fantastic outfits, including corsets that were amazingly laced to certainly no more than 18-20 inches, but her hands and arms were always bound, her head and face hooded with bizarre hoods and she was usually gagged.
Her catsuits were smoothly fitted to her frame and her dresses were stunning with elaborate details, appliqués, and silhouettes. Her corsets were extreme and one was a venus corset designed to make it appear that she had no arms. That one was in bright gold latex and topped a matching evening gown with a train. It was rear zipped from floor to waist with a multi-slide zipper providing easy access while maintaining the hobbling effect of the zipper at the ankles.
As I said, she is a very tall woman with a wonderful figure, standing imperiously straight due to her corsets, and wearing 8-10 inch heels with platforms adding to her natural height. All in all, she was incredibly elegant, poised, and intimidating, particularly hooded as she was. This made her look rather unapproachable. She reminded me, since we never saw her face, and never saw her hands or arms, of some statue you were afraid would crack and crumble if you touched it.
In reality, as I would learn, she has a wonderfully friendly and easy going personality. She too was a teacher in her career, teaching in an elementary school for about 25 years before retiring. Her husband, our host, had been an engineer, but had retired a few years before to move to a country house and pursue his hobbies which seem to be latex and BDSM. The couple had met at a BDSM munch in San Francisco about 10 years before and have been married for 8. They had found the large farmhouse and renovated it for their own tastes (including two play rooms or 'dungeons' as everyone called them) and decided to have latex dinner parties. That had evolved shortly into latex overnight parties.
He tended to wear total enclosure suits which fit very tightly while his mask and headgear were large and elaborate. In particular, one hood had several tubes emerging from it plus an inner microphone with a speaker mounted on the outside of the suit under a thin mesh of latex. No one could understand or hard;ly hear him unless he activated this little device to communicate.
Sir and I were shown to our room, a large bedroom with en suite bath and a king sized bed. Sir had asked about latex bed clothes, but the host did not provide these, so Sir had brought ours as well as my vacuum bed. He assembled it while I remade the bed in our style.
Of course we had brought along a collection of toys and playthings, but also found the room was equipped with a glass fronted cabinet filled with bright, clean, and quite amazing rubber and steel toys. It was like having a mini-bar in your hotel room but with filled with fresh erotic paraphernalia.
It was then that Sir explained that I was to remain in my burqa'd form entirely and completely until we returned home. For the next 36-40 hours I would be encased in the same skinsuit, dress, hood, gloves, and stockings and wear the same burqa with its second silencing hood. I would not be allowed to bathe, eat, or drink normally during that time. I was sealed and would remain so.
With that announcement, he proceeded to romance, bind, and stimulate me to an immense orgasm as I imagined what it would be like being sealed for the entire weekend in the same outfit, veiled by my burqa, silenced by my hood, fed by a tube, and enjoying the stimulation of my plugs.
More later ... :)
The venue was a large private home in a town north of us. There were about 15 people (7 couples and 1 threesome) and our hosts provided rooms for everyone. The only requirement was to be in latex all the time from arrival Friday afternoon until leaving Sunday afternoon.
We drove up on Friday with me in my blue burqa over a blue dress, hood, gloves, stockings and tight black 7 inch spike heel knee boots. Under the dress I was in a transparent blue skin suit with eye, nose, mouth openings and the crotch had entry holes for filling with plugs front and rear and for accessing genitals. The zipper on this skinsuit does not go through the crotch. Sir was in black latex slacks, shirt, and jacket.
Arriving guests were shown to their rooms (the house has 10 bedrooms) and the rule of the house explained again. All latex all the time. No one was to be seen in anything but rubber until after noon on Sunday. Showing skin was OK, but no other material was to be worn. Everyone was fairly local and many arrived in latex as we did, driving into the country rather than flying to a nearby airport and renting.
Our hosts were dressed in very extreme rubber and she, in particular, appeared in bondage throughout the weekend. She was at least 6 feet tall in her bare feet, large breasted with a slender waist moving into perfectly sized hips and buttocks.
Over the weekend, she wore several fantastic outfits, including corsets that were amazingly laced to certainly no more than 18-20 inches, but her hands and arms were always bound, her head and face hooded with bizarre hoods and she was usually gagged.
Her catsuits were smoothly fitted to her frame and her dresses were stunning with elaborate details, appliqués, and silhouettes. Her corsets were extreme and one was a venus corset designed to make it appear that she had no arms. That one was in bright gold latex and topped a matching evening gown with a train. It was rear zipped from floor to waist with a multi-slide zipper providing easy access while maintaining the hobbling effect of the zipper at the ankles.
As I said, she is a very tall woman with a wonderful figure, standing imperiously straight due to her corsets, and wearing 8-10 inch heels with platforms adding to her natural height. All in all, she was incredibly elegant, poised, and intimidating, particularly hooded as she was. This made her look rather unapproachable. She reminded me, since we never saw her face, and never saw her hands or arms, of some statue you were afraid would crack and crumble if you touched it.
In reality, as I would learn, she has a wonderfully friendly and easy going personality. She too was a teacher in her career, teaching in an elementary school for about 25 years before retiring. Her husband, our host, had been an engineer, but had retired a few years before to move to a country house and pursue his hobbies which seem to be latex and BDSM. The couple had met at a BDSM munch in San Francisco about 10 years before and have been married for 8. They had found the large farmhouse and renovated it for their own tastes (including two play rooms or 'dungeons' as everyone called them) and decided to have latex dinner parties. That had evolved shortly into latex overnight parties.
He tended to wear total enclosure suits which fit very tightly while his mask and headgear were large and elaborate. In particular, one hood had several tubes emerging from it plus an inner microphone with a speaker mounted on the outside of the suit under a thin mesh of latex. No one could understand or hard;ly hear him unless he activated this little device to communicate.
Sir and I were shown to our room, a large bedroom with en suite bath and a king sized bed. Sir had asked about latex bed clothes, but the host did not provide these, so Sir had brought ours as well as my vacuum bed. He assembled it while I remade the bed in our style.
Of course we had brought along a collection of toys and playthings, but also found the room was equipped with a glass fronted cabinet filled with bright, clean, and quite amazing rubber and steel toys. It was like having a mini-bar in your hotel room but with filled with fresh erotic paraphernalia.
It was then that Sir explained that I was to remain in my burqa'd form entirely and completely until we returned home. For the next 36-40 hours I would be encased in the same skinsuit, dress, hood, gloves, and stockings and wear the same burqa with its second silencing hood. I would not be allowed to bathe, eat, or drink normally during that time. I was sealed and would remain so.
With that announcement, he proceeded to romance, bind, and stimulate me to an immense orgasm as I imagined what it would be like being sealed for the entire weekend in the same outfit, veiled by my burqa, silenced by my hood, fed by a tube, and enjoying the stimulation of my plugs.
More later ... :)
Monday, March 04, 2013
Weekend Shopping
We went out shopping on Saturday and had a bit of fun. We went to one of the larger malls in Dallas. People walk this mall for exercise and it is even marked for them to know their distance. Not only that, but it is marked on both sides of the concourse so if you walk the inner edge you get a somewhat shorter distance than if you walk the outer edge.
We were really just browsing. During the morning I had been gardening and this was a comfortable way to spend the afternoon before dinner at a nearby seafood restaurant.
But about halfway around the mall I looked out through my blue burqa with the goggle eyes and saw a couple approaching us. He was dressed in black and she was in a stunning purple latex dress. As they approached they noticed us and veered over to introduce themselves.
I was silenced, of course and could not speak, but this did not seem to phase them. They knew of my blog and the woman said it was some of her favorite reading...a comment that always makes me blush.
Sir explained that I was restricted and silenced and carried the conversation. He complimented the woman on her gorgeous dress and I nodded vigorously to show that I agreed.
The dress was tea length, with a full skirt, boned corset waist, and low cut top all in a semi-transparrent rubber. Nothing inappropriate showed, however. She was wearing dark foundations and ankle high cantilevered boots with no heel...fashionable pony boots. I have a similar pair, but hers were slightly different and very nice. She said she had acquired them in Italy.
There is a coffee bar with tables, chairs, and sofas and plush chairs in the middle of the concourse, so we headed there. We sat down and had a coffee (at least three of them did :) ) and chatted a bit. They explained that they enjoyed latex, mostly fashionable rubber, and were aware but not participatory in the latex 'scene' very much. However, they knew from this blog that we lived in the area so we discussed some of the ins and outs of rubber in a conservative public space like a North Dallas shopping Mall.
Truth be told, we did get quite a lot of looks, particularly since I was kneeling next to Sir, rather than sitting on the couch next to him, but most people just ignored us. Not, however, our new acquaintances. She said they had been approached many times during their visit to the mall with people asking where she got the dress, who made the dress, and was the dress latex, and how much they loved the look of the dress. A pair of young women stepped over as they were leaving the coffee bar and said they thought her dress was fantastic. They looked at me, but said nothing.
The men shared some interests, particularly in technology and software and Sir mentioned that he ran a development company. they chatted for a while. During that time, she queried me on lifestyle, enclosure, hoods, gags, etc. She was pretty good about asking yes/no questions I could answer.
I was not in heavy restraint and my arms were free to slip through the slits in my burqa (although they were secured to my chest above the elbow and, of course, gloved in the matching metallic blue of my burqa. But I had enough range of motion to gesture and communicate as needed. I was amazed that my kneeling in an obviously submissive manner next to Sir did not seem to faze her at all. He distinctly gave me permission to chat with her (non-verbally, of course) and she never blinked an eye.
When our coffees were done, we exchanged numbers and promised to call and get together again, then went our separate ways. It was a nice serendipitous meeting and I hope we meet them again sometime.
Afterwards, we made our way to an Italian restaurant for dinner. Sir allowed me to change in the ladies room from a silencing hood under the burqa to one with a mouth hole and to have a nice dinner...with angel hair pasta which is a challenge to eat under a burqa!
I was allowed to sit a the table and we actually had a wonderfully romantic dinner. The restaurant was not too full and it was quiet. I managed my veal carefully and we laughed and chatted about our day. Two old married people enjoying an afternoon and evening out...he in latex slacks and shirt, she in total enclosure catsuits, dress and blue rubber burqa.
We were really just browsing. During the morning I had been gardening and this was a comfortable way to spend the afternoon before dinner at a nearby seafood restaurant.
But about halfway around the mall I looked out through my blue burqa with the goggle eyes and saw a couple approaching us. He was dressed in black and she was in a stunning purple latex dress. As they approached they noticed us and veered over to introduce themselves.
I was silenced, of course and could not speak, but this did not seem to phase them. They knew of my blog and the woman said it was some of her favorite reading...a comment that always makes me blush.
Sir explained that I was restricted and silenced and carried the conversation. He complimented the woman on her gorgeous dress and I nodded vigorously to show that I agreed.
The dress was tea length, with a full skirt, boned corset waist, and low cut top all in a semi-transparrent rubber. Nothing inappropriate showed, however. She was wearing dark foundations and ankle high cantilevered boots with no heel...fashionable pony boots. I have a similar pair, but hers were slightly different and very nice. She said she had acquired them in Italy.
There is a coffee bar with tables, chairs, and sofas and plush chairs in the middle of the concourse, so we headed there. We sat down and had a coffee (at least three of them did :) ) and chatted a bit. They explained that they enjoyed latex, mostly fashionable rubber, and were aware but not participatory in the latex 'scene' very much. However, they knew from this blog that we lived in the area so we discussed some of the ins and outs of rubber in a conservative public space like a North Dallas shopping Mall.
Truth be told, we did get quite a lot of looks, particularly since I was kneeling next to Sir, rather than sitting on the couch next to him, but most people just ignored us. Not, however, our new acquaintances. She said they had been approached many times during their visit to the mall with people asking where she got the dress, who made the dress, and was the dress latex, and how much they loved the look of the dress. A pair of young women stepped over as they were leaving the coffee bar and said they thought her dress was fantastic. They looked at me, but said nothing.
The men shared some interests, particularly in technology and software and Sir mentioned that he ran a development company. they chatted for a while. During that time, she queried me on lifestyle, enclosure, hoods, gags, etc. She was pretty good about asking yes/no questions I could answer.
I was not in heavy restraint and my arms were free to slip through the slits in my burqa (although they were secured to my chest above the elbow and, of course, gloved in the matching metallic blue of my burqa. But I had enough range of motion to gesture and communicate as needed. I was amazed that my kneeling in an obviously submissive manner next to Sir did not seem to faze her at all. He distinctly gave me permission to chat with her (non-verbally, of course) and she never blinked an eye.
When our coffees were done, we exchanged numbers and promised to call and get together again, then went our separate ways. It was a nice serendipitous meeting and I hope we meet them again sometime.
Afterwards, we made our way to an Italian restaurant for dinner. Sir allowed me to change in the ladies room from a silencing hood under the burqa to one with a mouth hole and to have a nice dinner...with angel hair pasta which is a challenge to eat under a burqa!
I was allowed to sit a the table and we actually had a wonderfully romantic dinner. The restaurant was not too full and it was quiet. I managed my veal carefully and we laughed and chatted about our day. Two old married people enjoying an afternoon and evening out...he in latex slacks and shirt, she in total enclosure catsuits, dress and blue rubber burqa.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Christmas Events
Well, to continue the practice of short, pithy notes (as I believe I called them last time) this post will bring you up to date on our Christmas and New Year's adventures.
For Christmas, we journeyed to California to see our son and his gf. It was a fun time although it rained a great deal. Of course, this is perfect for rubber wear and for rubber burqa wear.
On the plane I wore all white, including a white, opaque, skin suit under white rubber dress in a loose fitting but straight skirted design, under my white burqa and its attached silencing hood.
I requested a private screening, but was mde to pass through the millimeter wave scanner first, anyway. However, after that I was escorted to a private area, patted down and visually inspected by a very polite TSA woman, the allowed to proceed.
As usual, I rubbered up properly afterwards in the ladies. I pulled the skinsuit's hood smoothly and tightly over my face, adjusted it so that I was gagged (the white suit has a small gag built into the hood), then pulled the burqa hood tightly over that. I have become quite adept at this and keeping my head shaved means that it is quite easy to zip shut down the back of my skull to the nape of my neck.
While visiting we went shopping in one of the largest malls and I encountered several other women in veil and hijab. Christmas may not be an important holiday to muslims, but it IS a very good time for bargains. There were no less than a dozen hijabi and niqabi shopping on Christmas Eve as we were.
We were in a large department store, Sir in his latex slacks and blazer, the kids in rubber jeans and tee shirt and a sailor moon cosplay outfit in bright blue and white latex. I was in my blue burqa over a blue straight dress with matching hood, gloves, and bots. Under that was one of my usual transparent skinsuits, this one tinted in blue and with an open mouthed hood. Consequently, I only had two hoods on for the day out and only the outer hood, the blue one that is part of the burqa, was silencing. This allowed me to talk when we were at the apartment or in our hotel suite, but to be fully gagged or silenced when out in public.
Sir had required that my arms be extended through the slits in the burqa and the wrists manacled and chained together outside the burqa for our trip to the mall. I should describe these. The manacles are actually more for style and for show than true restraint. They are light rubber straps with Swarovski crystal studs These buckle over my gloved wrists and are locked with small silver locks. They are permanently chained to each other by a thin silver chain. Were I to jerk my arms apart strongly, the chain would surely break. So, much more for the stylish fashion look than for true restraint.
There is a matching rubber collar, also studded with crystals, which I sometimes am made to wear around my neck outside the burqa. This collar can also be locked on and can be chained to the wrist cuffs via a straight silver chain descending from a D-ring to the chain between the cuffs.
Sir gave me this set of manacles for our wedding anniversary this year. He designated 37 as the "Latex" anniversary, but I think he is somewhat arbitrary about this.
I realized earlier today that I had never described them although I have been placed in them several times over the last few months. We both love the look, particularly against my darker burqas, the blue and the black.
Before we left for the mall, Sir asked our son to put the wrist cuffs on me. He did so, obviously enjoying the notion of chaining his mother in her multiple layers of rubber. I could see that Sir enjoyed the scene as well and the girl friend was fascinated.
That day (Christmas eve) Sir did not specify the neck collar, just the wrist chains. As we walked along the street, I stayed a 'proper' few steps behind Sir with my hands draped downward in front of me. The chains were not dramatically visible, but there was no way we did not attract attention and stares as we walked along some of the most crowded streets in the city.
As we wandered around the department store, we encountered two women in full niqab. They looked a bit startled when they saw me, but just nodded. I suspect they did not think I and my little rubber-clad cadre were religious as they were giggling to each other a few moments after we passed.
We did a bit more shopping, and I know I surprised the clerk in the women's tops section when I picked out two tops, the chain between my wrists tinkling and very visible. I presented them to the clerk with both hands, then stepped out of the way for Sir to pay. She was taken aback and an expression of disapproval crossed her face until Sir smiled at her and told her we were headed to a fetish party. This, oddly enough, seemed to mollify her completely and she was all smiles as she checked us out.
Afterwards, we separated into our respective couples and Sir and I wandered around a bit more, garnering stern looks from the folks in the Swarovski store even though my manacles, which I was no longer making any attempt to hide or downplay, were covered with their crystals. Sir and I were discussing (he talking, me signing with hand and head movements) which Christmas ornament to get for son's tree while being studied most carefully by the clerks and the security guard. However, when Sir picked out the ornament we agreed upon and asked them to write it up, we were suddenly the best of customers. :)
We looked at a few more places then hooked up with the kids and stopped in the food court for a light lunch. I, of course, was not able to partake, but sat quietly watching them eat fantastic smelling roast beef sandwiches.
I was allowed to sit with them (sometimes I have to either kneel or stand by Sir in public restaurants) with my blue gloved rubber hands poised on the table, manacles and chain in plain sight. We girls even managed a conversation of sorts about the goods she and son had purchased.
Lest you think Sir too cruel, he did order one of the sandwiches for me to go and I was allowed to eat it once we returned to our son's apartment.
So our Christmas Eve shopping was fun, and successful. Sir and I returned to our hotel suite for a very romantic evening. I shan't go into details except to say that it was very sensual for me, still gagged and burqa'd to undress Sir only to discover that he was encased in a black rubber catsuit the whole day and I had never noticed. Suffice it to say that we spent a total enclosure evening, even when room service delivered the evening meal and champagne!
The next day Sir and I stepped out from the hotel, after a light breakfast in the hotel restaurant (I was allowed to ungag for Christmas - :) ). Then cabbed over to son's apartment for a quiet Christmas day celebration.
More later
Lady
For Christmas, we journeyed to California to see our son and his gf. It was a fun time although it rained a great deal. Of course, this is perfect for rubber wear and for rubber burqa wear.
On the plane I wore all white, including a white, opaque, skin suit under white rubber dress in a loose fitting but straight skirted design, under my white burqa and its attached silencing hood.
I requested a private screening, but was mde to pass through the millimeter wave scanner first, anyway. However, after that I was escorted to a private area, patted down and visually inspected by a very polite TSA woman, the allowed to proceed.
As usual, I rubbered up properly afterwards in the ladies. I pulled the skinsuit's hood smoothly and tightly over my face, adjusted it so that I was gagged (the white suit has a small gag built into the hood), then pulled the burqa hood tightly over that. I have become quite adept at this and keeping my head shaved means that it is quite easy to zip shut down the back of my skull to the nape of my neck.
While visiting we went shopping in one of the largest malls and I encountered several other women in veil and hijab. Christmas may not be an important holiday to muslims, but it IS a very good time for bargains. There were no less than a dozen hijabi and niqabi shopping on Christmas Eve as we were.
We were in a large department store, Sir in his latex slacks and blazer, the kids in rubber jeans and tee shirt and a sailor moon cosplay outfit in bright blue and white latex. I was in my blue burqa over a blue straight dress with matching hood, gloves, and bots. Under that was one of my usual transparent skinsuits, this one tinted in blue and with an open mouthed hood. Consequently, I only had two hoods on for the day out and only the outer hood, the blue one that is part of the burqa, was silencing. This allowed me to talk when we were at the apartment or in our hotel suite, but to be fully gagged or silenced when out in public.
Sir had required that my arms be extended through the slits in the burqa and the wrists manacled and chained together outside the burqa for our trip to the mall. I should describe these. The manacles are actually more for style and for show than true restraint. They are light rubber straps with Swarovski crystal studs These buckle over my gloved wrists and are locked with small silver locks. They are permanently chained to each other by a thin silver chain. Were I to jerk my arms apart strongly, the chain would surely break. So, much more for the stylish fashion look than for true restraint.
There is a matching rubber collar, also studded with crystals, which I sometimes am made to wear around my neck outside the burqa. This collar can also be locked on and can be chained to the wrist cuffs via a straight silver chain descending from a D-ring to the chain between the cuffs.
Sir gave me this set of manacles for our wedding anniversary this year. He designated 37 as the "Latex" anniversary, but I think he is somewhat arbitrary about this.
I realized earlier today that I had never described them although I have been placed in them several times over the last few months. We both love the look, particularly against my darker burqas, the blue and the black.
Before we left for the mall, Sir asked our son to put the wrist cuffs on me. He did so, obviously enjoying the notion of chaining his mother in her multiple layers of rubber. I could see that Sir enjoyed the scene as well and the girl friend was fascinated.
That day (Christmas eve) Sir did not specify the neck collar, just the wrist chains. As we walked along the street, I stayed a 'proper' few steps behind Sir with my hands draped downward in front of me. The chains were not dramatically visible, but there was no way we did not attract attention and stares as we walked along some of the most crowded streets in the city.
As we wandered around the department store, we encountered two women in full niqab. They looked a bit startled when they saw me, but just nodded. I suspect they did not think I and my little rubber-clad cadre were religious as they were giggling to each other a few moments after we passed.
We did a bit more shopping, and I know I surprised the clerk in the women's tops section when I picked out two tops, the chain between my wrists tinkling and very visible. I presented them to the clerk with both hands, then stepped out of the way for Sir to pay. She was taken aback and an expression of disapproval crossed her face until Sir smiled at her and told her we were headed to a fetish party. This, oddly enough, seemed to mollify her completely and she was all smiles as she checked us out.
Afterwards, we separated into our respective couples and Sir and I wandered around a bit more, garnering stern looks from the folks in the Swarovski store even though my manacles, which I was no longer making any attempt to hide or downplay, were covered with their crystals. Sir and I were discussing (he talking, me signing with hand and head movements) which Christmas ornament to get for son's tree while being studied most carefully by the clerks and the security guard. However, when Sir picked out the ornament we agreed upon and asked them to write it up, we were suddenly the best of customers. :)
We looked at a few more places then hooked up with the kids and stopped in the food court for a light lunch. I, of course, was not able to partake, but sat quietly watching them eat fantastic smelling roast beef sandwiches.
I was allowed to sit with them (sometimes I have to either kneel or stand by Sir in public restaurants) with my blue gloved rubber hands poised on the table, manacles and chain in plain sight. We girls even managed a conversation of sorts about the goods she and son had purchased.
Lest you think Sir too cruel, he did order one of the sandwiches for me to go and I was allowed to eat it once we returned to our son's apartment.
So our Christmas Eve shopping was fun, and successful. Sir and I returned to our hotel suite for a very romantic evening. I shan't go into details except to say that it was very sensual for me, still gagged and burqa'd to undress Sir only to discover that he was encased in a black rubber catsuit the whole day and I had never noticed. Suffice it to say that we spent a total enclosure evening, even when room service delivered the evening meal and champagne!
The next day Sir and I stepped out from the hotel, after a light breakfast in the hotel restaurant (I was allowed to ungag for Christmas - :) ). Then cabbed over to son's apartment for a quiet Christmas day celebration.
More later
Lady
Thursday, January 31, 2013
A New Year ... My Holiday Time
Some of my readers have begun to comment most vociferously on my 3 month hiatus from writing in this blog. My apologies. Three month intervals do seem to have become my norm, although it is without intent. There has just been either so little or so much going on each time that I have procrastinated on the writing. I should be more consistent and frequent; one might even say I should be more regular, but there are such connotations to that term at my time of life.
I shall endeavor, as always, to post ore often. I take it people would rather see short, pithy postings frequently than have to wait until something has occurred which I deem write worthy. I shall attempt to accommodate.
Here we are, at the end of January. Thanksgiving has come and gone, Christmas and Hannukah have passed, and the New Year is underway. Heavens, yesterday we had an inauguration! it has been a busy quarter year.
It does seem strange to think of it as a quarter year since I last posted. I definitely shall have to focus more.
Well, my adventures in the intervening quarter:
Thanksgiving was spent with Sir's family, specifically, his sister. We have done this before. Although it was expected to be a small gathering of just 5 or 6, by the time we were seated around the table, there were 13 people enjoying the day and the dinner. Sir and I flew down and rented a car, driving out to the homestead on the day before. I was in white burqa that day with my favorite white latex long skirted dress on underneath. nothing much happened as we made the trip. At the airport i was subjected to the usual private pat down, but it was all very friendly. As usual, i prepared in advance with an open faced hood beneath the burqa so that it would be easy to show my face to the agent and confirm identity. After clearing screening, I went into a ladies room and slipped a full face, silencing hood in white over that so I was properly covered and unable to speak for the duration of the flight.
One thing I was able to experience was the new scanners, the millimeter wave, not the x-ray-based. These do NOT show an image of a naked body, but rather a stick figure indicating I had nothing scary on under my rubber burqa.
On the plane I sat and read, white gloved hands emerging from white burqa, large print selected on my iPad. Did I mention i have my own iPad now? Sir gave me that a while back. Very helpful for all types of reading and web browsing.
Collecting luggage was fun. I stood as Sir waited for our bags to come up on the carousel. A young boy of about 5 or 6 was goggle eyed looking at me and approached with an intent to touch the burqa. A quick handed mother dragged him back. I feigned ignorance of his approach, but was in fact contemplating the effect a sudden turn and bow might have on him.
We proceeded to our car rental and drove out to his sister's hacienda in the hills. Once there, I was greeted warmly, as usual, by the family. An old friend of his sister's was visiting as well and she was a bit taken aback by my veiled appearance, but had been prepared. I was allowed by Sir to retire to our assigned bedroom and to slip into my blue burqa with matching catsuit and dress on underneath and no silencing hood. This meant I could converse and participate with the rest of the family.
We had a lovely dinner, all white food, seemingly, although I do not think that was the intent. But Turkey, potatoes, marshmallow sauce, cauliflower, and root vegetables seemed to be the orde of the day. No greens or colour. Tasty, however.
I did have an opportunity to chat for a while with Sir's sister's friend who has quite a set of firm opinions about other cultures and people, and things not like her. She is a nice person, but definitely let me know that she considers my lifestyle and Sir's to be weird. She was, nonetheless, accepting; I suspect his sister got an earful later, however. :)
We went out to the Riverwalk one evening with Sir in his new black rubber burqa/cape/hood combination and I in red. There was a club that was one of the few fetish venues in the area and was having a thanksgiving week party, so we dropped by. They were not doing a fetish night then, but let us in nonetheless...Not much except some fun music and dancing, but definitely made an entrance!
After a few days, we came home. We did do some nice shopping in the San Antonio area, saw a couple of films, including the new one, Rise of the Guardians, which the children all loved. It is a funny take on some old indo-european christmas myths; Jack Frost, Santa, and even the Sandman.
Coming back, I was to wear all white rubber, from a solid catsuit, to a hooded dress, and then a burqa. It was cooler than when we left and this bundling was quite nice. It was, however, a bit more restrictive, particularly when i had to show my face at security. For this, the hood of the dress had not been pulled up and so I had two hoods to juggle with once through security. Took seemingly forever to get everything aligne3d, my mouth properly gagged and smoothed over by the outermost hood of the burqa.
The white burqa is still one of the most dramatic because it is so large and has so much shine to it. I feel like a cloud as I walk down concourses or corridors with meter upon meter of swirling white latex blowing behind me, the pressure all focused on my face, reminding me that I am hooded, gagged, and silenced (there is a difference) as the rubber pulls my posture straight and my head up.
I will end here and post again soon on the actual Christmas holiday which we spent in California. A fun time, but I am slow to write and I know everyone wants to hear more.
I shall endeavor, as always, to post ore often. I take it people would rather see short, pithy postings frequently than have to wait until something has occurred which I deem write worthy. I shall attempt to accommodate.
Here we are, at the end of January. Thanksgiving has come and gone, Christmas and Hannukah have passed, and the New Year is underway. Heavens, yesterday we had an inauguration! it has been a busy quarter year.
It does seem strange to think of it as a quarter year since I last posted. I definitely shall have to focus more.
Well, my adventures in the intervening quarter:
Thanksgiving was spent with Sir's family, specifically, his sister. We have done this before. Although it was expected to be a small gathering of just 5 or 6, by the time we were seated around the table, there were 13 people enjoying the day and the dinner. Sir and I flew down and rented a car, driving out to the homestead on the day before. I was in white burqa that day with my favorite white latex long skirted dress on underneath. nothing much happened as we made the trip. At the airport i was subjected to the usual private pat down, but it was all very friendly. As usual, i prepared in advance with an open faced hood beneath the burqa so that it would be easy to show my face to the agent and confirm identity. After clearing screening, I went into a ladies room and slipped a full face, silencing hood in white over that so I was properly covered and unable to speak for the duration of the flight.
One thing I was able to experience was the new scanners, the millimeter wave, not the x-ray-based. These do NOT show an image of a naked body, but rather a stick figure indicating I had nothing scary on under my rubber burqa.
On the plane I sat and read, white gloved hands emerging from white burqa, large print selected on my iPad. Did I mention i have my own iPad now? Sir gave me that a while back. Very helpful for all types of reading and web browsing.
Collecting luggage was fun. I stood as Sir waited for our bags to come up on the carousel. A young boy of about 5 or 6 was goggle eyed looking at me and approached with an intent to touch the burqa. A quick handed mother dragged him back. I feigned ignorance of his approach, but was in fact contemplating the effect a sudden turn and bow might have on him.
We proceeded to our car rental and drove out to his sister's hacienda in the hills. Once there, I was greeted warmly, as usual, by the family. An old friend of his sister's was visiting as well and she was a bit taken aback by my veiled appearance, but had been prepared. I was allowed by Sir to retire to our assigned bedroom and to slip into my blue burqa with matching catsuit and dress on underneath and no silencing hood. This meant I could converse and participate with the rest of the family.
We had a lovely dinner, all white food, seemingly, although I do not think that was the intent. But Turkey, potatoes, marshmallow sauce, cauliflower, and root vegetables seemed to be the orde of the day. No greens or colour. Tasty, however.
I did have an opportunity to chat for a while with Sir's sister's friend who has quite a set of firm opinions about other cultures and people, and things not like her. She is a nice person, but definitely let me know that she considers my lifestyle and Sir's to be weird. She was, nonetheless, accepting; I suspect his sister got an earful later, however. :)
We went out to the Riverwalk one evening with Sir in his new black rubber burqa/cape/hood combination and I in red. There was a club that was one of the few fetish venues in the area and was having a thanksgiving week party, so we dropped by. They were not doing a fetish night then, but let us in nonetheless...Not much except some fun music and dancing, but definitely made an entrance!
After a few days, we came home. We did do some nice shopping in the San Antonio area, saw a couple of films, including the new one, Rise of the Guardians, which the children all loved. It is a funny take on some old indo-european christmas myths; Jack Frost, Santa, and even the Sandman.
Coming back, I was to wear all white rubber, from a solid catsuit, to a hooded dress, and then a burqa. It was cooler than when we left and this bundling was quite nice. It was, however, a bit more restrictive, particularly when i had to show my face at security. For this, the hood of the dress had not been pulled up and so I had two hoods to juggle with once through security. Took seemingly forever to get everything aligne3d, my mouth properly gagged and smoothed over by the outermost hood of the burqa.
The white burqa is still one of the most dramatic because it is so large and has so much shine to it. I feel like a cloud as I walk down concourses or corridors with meter upon meter of swirling white latex blowing behind me, the pressure all focused on my face, reminding me that I am hooded, gagged, and silenced (there is a difference) as the rubber pulls my posture straight and my head up.
I will end here and post again soon on the actual Christmas holiday which we spent in California. A fun time, but I am slow to write and I know everyone wants to hear more.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
A Hot Summer with Recovery
I have recently had a comment that I have not posted in 3 months, thereby invalidating the title of my last post.
This is very true. I had meant to post, but was ill for a while, as I mentioned in my previous post, then busy as Sir underwent and recovered from a bit of heart surgery. No sooner did I feel better than Sir had to go into hospital and have robotic heart surgery fix a congenital birth defect he'd never known about.
He is much, much better now, having had what was a minor birth defect surgically corrected 57 years later. He had developed a lot of breathing and exertion problems, but, thankfully, we had it tracked down and fixed. Sir, of course took it as an engineering problem and grilled the surgeon on all the technical aspects. He even requested a DVD of the movie they made as they traversed his heart and zipped it up.
Two months or thereabouts of recovery have meant that he has been here in the house most days, often relaxing and laying about. However, as his strength returned and he began to feel considerably better, he has become much more active and involved. And horny :) It is good that heart surgery not only did not damage his kinky nature, but actually intensified certain aspects. Medical fetish is now very much on the menu! With me as the patient in need of severe invasive and scary medical procedures!
For those of you who will ask, yes, I remained in my full latex clothing and in my burqas during his short hospital stay. The nurses and doctors were most accommodating. Sir allowed me to speak, so I was not silenced and my usual silencing hoods were left for me to wear only during trips to and from the hospital. But I was in a hooded latex skinsuit and a rubber dress over that, then my burqa. I wore the red, the blue and the gold/electrum over the three day stay.
Sir himself brought and wore his rubber pajamas and either his latex dressing gown or his rubber cassock.There was a bit of confusion one day as he wore the cassock over pajamas while walking with an IV pole. At least two other patients said, "hello Father" as he was shambling past them in the hallway on his way to the yogurt and pudding fridge.
Thankfully, he was only in one of those gowns for the day of surgery. I have since searched and cannot find a rubber version of a hospital gown. Perhaps they are so horrid that not even intense, serious medical fetishists are willing to wear even a rubber version.
Since I was on my own, but needed to come up to the hospital each day, I contemplated driving in the burqa, but as usual sanity prevailed. I contacted the car service we use when Sir is away and our usual driver shuttled me back and forth between home and hospital every day.
Sir was only hospitalized for three days; open heart surgery is, in many cases, not much of a challenge these days for doctor or patient. He had very little pain and took only a few more days lying on the couch to recover enough that he started saying he felt good. But he had 2 months of official recovery time which has meant that we have been on something of a holiday for a while.
It was while he recovered that our visit to the arboretum, which I mentioned in my last post, occurred.
August was hot here, as it always is, but cooler and wetter than usual. The truly outrageous temperatures did not occur until later in the month and consequently, I was able to go out fully sealed while Sir was home.
He and I went out to dinner several times and to the cinema and, of course, the arboretum. Walking was the way to recover his strength and we visited several shopping malls and just walked them for hours, window shopping and picking up a few things here and there. As his strength returned, I was amazed how much he could do so quickly. Heart surgery is not only good for the heart, it is good for the whole man.
Sir, feeling better, has been spending money. I know about the kimono he has commissioned for me, but I suspect so much more. I believe he has been ordering new latex outfits, medical fetish supplies, and breath control devices for himself and for me. I can usually tell by the sudden appearance of a tape measure on his desk.
Other than dinner, cinema, shopping, theater, car buying, and visiting friends, it has been a "quiet" summer. It is so good to have Sir feeling better and stronger than before. By the second week home he had resumed having rubber scenes with me, including some medical fetish play that was most entertaining. I had no idea you could do that with a catheter and a speculum!
I also did have time and energy to get back into second life and see old friends there. There had been some changes while I was gone. But I just never got around to posting to this blog for which I apologize.
Right now we are having work done around the house with windows, doors, air conditioning, trees, and other things required. That means I am fully sealed, silenced and burqa'd in my own home about 12 hours a day, at least. And Sir, feeling better has begun to insist on plugs in all orifices, including gags in my mouth. While he recovered he was quite busy on the internet and several new hoods, gags, binders, and other paraphenalia arrived. Of those, the new hobble skirt and gags and plugs and underwear have been put to significant use while the workmen are here in the house. They are used to me by now, ut do not know, of course, how bound and stimulated I am beneath my flowing burqa.
More of that later. Next post I will write about some of those medical scenes Sir has become enamored with.
This is very true. I had meant to post, but was ill for a while, as I mentioned in my previous post, then busy as Sir underwent and recovered from a bit of heart surgery. No sooner did I feel better than Sir had to go into hospital and have robotic heart surgery fix a congenital birth defect he'd never known about.
He is much, much better now, having had what was a minor birth defect surgically corrected 57 years later. He had developed a lot of breathing and exertion problems, but, thankfully, we had it tracked down and fixed. Sir, of course took it as an engineering problem and grilled the surgeon on all the technical aspects. He even requested a DVD of the movie they made as they traversed his heart and zipped it up.
Two months or thereabouts of recovery have meant that he has been here in the house most days, often relaxing and laying about. However, as his strength returned and he began to feel considerably better, he has become much more active and involved. And horny :) It is good that heart surgery not only did not damage his kinky nature, but actually intensified certain aspects. Medical fetish is now very much on the menu! With me as the patient in need of severe invasive and scary medical procedures!
For those of you who will ask, yes, I remained in my full latex clothing and in my burqas during his short hospital stay. The nurses and doctors were most accommodating. Sir allowed me to speak, so I was not silenced and my usual silencing hoods were left for me to wear only during trips to and from the hospital. But I was in a hooded latex skinsuit and a rubber dress over that, then my burqa. I wore the red, the blue and the gold/electrum over the three day stay.
Sir himself brought and wore his rubber pajamas and either his latex dressing gown or his rubber cassock.There was a bit of confusion one day as he wore the cassock over pajamas while walking with an IV pole. At least two other patients said, "hello Father" as he was shambling past them in the hallway on his way to the yogurt and pudding fridge.
Thankfully, he was only in one of those gowns for the day of surgery. I have since searched and cannot find a rubber version of a hospital gown. Perhaps they are so horrid that not even intense, serious medical fetishists are willing to wear even a rubber version.
Since I was on my own, but needed to come up to the hospital each day, I contemplated driving in the burqa, but as usual sanity prevailed. I contacted the car service we use when Sir is away and our usual driver shuttled me back and forth between home and hospital every day.
Sir was only hospitalized for three days; open heart surgery is, in many cases, not much of a challenge these days for doctor or patient. He had very little pain and took only a few more days lying on the couch to recover enough that he started saying he felt good. But he had 2 months of official recovery time which has meant that we have been on something of a holiday for a while.
It was while he recovered that our visit to the arboretum, which I mentioned in my last post, occurred.
August was hot here, as it always is, but cooler and wetter than usual. The truly outrageous temperatures did not occur until later in the month and consequently, I was able to go out fully sealed while Sir was home.
He and I went out to dinner several times and to the cinema and, of course, the arboretum. Walking was the way to recover his strength and we visited several shopping malls and just walked them for hours, window shopping and picking up a few things here and there. As his strength returned, I was amazed how much he could do so quickly. Heart surgery is not only good for the heart, it is good for the whole man.
Sir, feeling better, has been spending money. I know about the kimono he has commissioned for me, but I suspect so much more. I believe he has been ordering new latex outfits, medical fetish supplies, and breath control devices for himself and for me. I can usually tell by the sudden appearance of a tape measure on his desk.
Other than dinner, cinema, shopping, theater, car buying, and visiting friends, it has been a "quiet" summer. It is so good to have Sir feeling better and stronger than before. By the second week home he had resumed having rubber scenes with me, including some medical fetish play that was most entertaining. I had no idea you could do that with a catheter and a speculum!
I also did have time and energy to get back into second life and see old friends there. There had been some changes while I was gone. But I just never got around to posting to this blog for which I apologize.
Right now we are having work done around the house with windows, doors, air conditioning, trees, and other things required. That means I am fully sealed, silenced and burqa'd in my own home about 12 hours a day, at least. And Sir, feeling better has begun to insist on plugs in all orifices, including gags in my mouth. While he recovered he was quite busy on the internet and several new hoods, gags, binders, and other paraphenalia arrived. Of those, the new hobble skirt and gags and plugs and underwear have been put to significant use while the workmen are here in the house. They are used to me by now, ut do not know, of course, how bound and stimulated I am beneath my flowing burqa.
More of that later. Next post I will write about some of those medical scenes Sir has become enamored with.
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