I do not usually discuss Sir's and my sexual practices here. I do not have any desire to describe in explicit terms the sexual adventures Sir and I get up to. Suffice it to say they are very enjoyable, rather more involved than missionary, and deeply latex centric.
This log is more about my internal feelings and a look at my day to day life living in latex. However, the other night I had such an intriguing evening which I can discuss in non-explicit terms that I thought i would share. The most intriguing aspect of the evening turned out to be the very lack of anything to writehome about (or blog about).
As a submissive I no longer think in terms of what sexual practices please me. I have almost completely sublimated such reactions into thinking about what pleases Sir. Pleasing HIM pleases me. Fortunately for me, usually, Sir gains pleasure by making me feel pleasure. It is a symbiotic relationship in many ways.
I often refer to the fact that Sir uses me in one way or another for his gratification. As my particular fetish is to be oibjectified, please understand that nothing pleases me more than for him to do this. It is deeply comforting and highly arousing for him to manipulate me in a physical manner as though I were a toy.
Sir has, for many years, preferred oral gratification to genital. That is, he enjoys using my mouth and I find it a wonderful way to be used. But, as usual with Sir, there is a twist.
The other night, as on many other evenings, he came home and found me in a long black rubber dress, corset, boots, gloves, and hood. Sir wen tupstairs to change into some latex for dinner and came down a while later in the catsuit he had worn under his street clothes that day.
I made dinner for us (really miss maid sometiems!) and set it out on the table. However, just as I called him to the table, he came in and put a second hood over my face. This one has no eyeholes, and has a condom sheath that goes in my mouth. He also slipped a rubber armbinder over my arms behind my back and placed an ankle binder around my boots.
He led me over to his chair at the end of the table and had me kneel beside it. A short chain passed from the tip of the armbinder to the ankle binder.
I knew what this meant. He does this from time to time and it always means that he will be using me from time to time over the course of dinner and the rest of the evening to satisfy his sexual needs. By using my mouth which is filled with a rubber sheath, I am made to be his toy, his object, his rubber doll, but I myself and denied even the fleeting gratification of tasting him.
It is hard to explain just how incredibly erotic and arousing I find this. The overwhelming sense of losing my identity, losing control over my body, losing control over my emotions and even my sexuality is explosively exciting and arousing. And, feeling him satisfy himself is quite capable of prompting a climax in me when I have successfully migrated to the headspace that such objectification typically sends me to.
But this night Sir did not use me. He knelt me beside his chair, and, as far as I could tell, ate the dinner I had prepared with gusto. Usually, he would stop sometime during the meal and unzip his suit and utilize me. However, that evening he never touched me, not even to pat my head as he often does.
After his dinner, he moved me into our TV viewing room and knelt me in my usual place next to his chair. Again, I usually am placed facing him so that, as he relaxes, watching a movie, he can use me at a moment's notice. It is not unusual for me to remain like this, rubbered, blinded, silenced, chained, disposable to his whims and urges, for an entire evening, serving as a receptacle to his lust and urges several times through the evening.
On this ocassion however, he did nothing. For the entire evening (over 6 hours I later learned), he never once touched my rubbered body, never gratified himself, never acknowledged my existence.
At the end of his evening of TV, he turned off the set (I could hear it click off when the sound died) then, as far as I could tell, left the room.
I did not know whether to be devastated or overjoyed. I was so confused. On the one hand he had not touched me, had almost acted as if I had displeased him. I had taken a mental inventory of my dress and demeanor several times since he bound me, but I was certain I had not dressed inappropriately. No skin was showing, my corset was tight, my boots high, my gloves in perfect order (a split glove is a VERY bad offense in our household).
On the other hand, he had treated me as the ultimate object; one he simply owned but felt no interest in, did not have any use for that night. There was such an aspect of total abnegation of my being that I found myself breathing fast and hard when I consodered what I must look like to him. I was an end table, a small decoration, a nothing.
I knelt there, vacillating between elation and despair, between fear I would be left there until I died of thirst and excitement at having been transofrmed into the objectified creation I wished.
I do not know how long I kenlt there...five minutes, and hour, two...I simply have no idea. But at some point, I suddenly felt Sir's rubber gloved hands reach around me from behind and squeeze my breasts and nipples (which were quite hard at that moment).
I absolutely exploded. The climax I achieved in that moment was among the strongest in my life. I tried to scream, but the rubber sheath in my mouth prevented evena good scream as I felt my whole rubbered body flowing with hot lust and the followon explosion of pleasure.
I collapsed...After kneeling for hours it was too much to bear and I felt all my muscles go limp with quivering delight. I vaguely recall starting to keel over to my left, then nothing.
I slowly cames awake and discovered myself, still encased, gagged, booted, gloved, bound, and very stiff. I laid there, unmoving. I still could not see, and I felt the post-coital lassitude but I had a sense I had been there for a while. Then, I heard and felt Sir come in, and he sat me upright, un fashioned the chain and the binders. He stood e up on very wobbly legs and undid my condom hood. I was quivering again to feel his hands on me, hoping he would finally use me, but all he did was remove the hood.
I blinked my eyes as they adjusted to light. He did not say a word, but led me out of the home theater room and I was astounded...there was daylight coming in the windows. I had been in there all night long.
Sir took me upstairs, undressed me, and put me to bed again in our bed under the latex sheets and comforter. I drfited back to sleep and didn't wake up until after noon.
What an incredible evening. No psychotropic drug could be more dramatic in its effects.