Last blog post I talked about school days, and their nostalgic erotic attractions to many people. That got me thinking about the other ways we dress up, and what the things we wear mean to us. I realized that actually, in my stories the various characters do a lot of dressing up and down. What we wear says things about us, tells people something about us and identifies us. When I describe a character, I have to give some thought to what they are wearing. Sometimes, what they are wearing is really important to the scene I am trying to set.
Every Day Wear
Or to put it another way, normal or every-day clothing and what it says about us. If I describe a girl as wearing combats and a T-shirt, you can tell she’s either casual or is expecting to get outdoors or have to do a dirty job. If she’s wearing jeans, it conveys that she is dressed casually. If a short skirt, she’s feeling sexy. The same is true of male characters: a tuxedo says sophisticated leisure; a business suit says professional.
The truth is, though, that we dress every day for what we have to do and for comfort and to show who we are. Even if we don’t care what we wear (I sometimes don’t!) we are usually saying in our choice that we do not care. It’s a compromise between who we want to show to the world, what we have available, and what we have to do.
For example, I am feeling sexy so I would like to wear a short skirt and strut my stuff, but I have to work in the office so I have to dress formally, plus it’s cold out so I have to dress for warmth. So the short skirt is out, it’s slacks today because of the temperature, and a suit jacket because it’s work. Heels would be nice, but heels don’t grip icy pavements, so it’s my boots. I’m wearing hot underwear, though.
We can of course make our every-day wear work for us, and say something for us. We’re usually much freer with underwear than outerwear, and we can change when we get home. If my man wants to make me shiver when I walk through the door, his evening suit is what he’ll wear. If I want to do the same, I have this sexy little dress that I slip on without any underwear (it’s the kind that underwear shows through!).
Girls think a lot about the statements we say in what we wear, and smart guys pay attention. Guys can to, when they put their minds to it.
The thing about every-day wear is that we all wear it, at some point. You can’t not mention it, you can’t escape it. It’s all around us.
May as well make it work for us, then, eh?
Hence I introduce characters that are dressed normally on the outside but are doing unexpected things – like Michelle in The Challenge who starts wearing a chastity belt she has worn under her work clothes all week, or Lydia in The Interview going to meet her prospective domme wearing a short skirt and no panties.
Every-day does not have to mean boring, even if no-one gets to see it (except who you want to see it, of course).
Wearing a uniform makes a declaration about an individual, makes them instantly recognized for what they are if not who they are. It declares that they are important in some way. Uniforms are often a way of declaring not just profession but status. A police uniform declares authority, for example, and a French maid’s uniform subservience.
A lot of people have a thing about a man in uniform, probably because of what the uniform says about the person wearing it. Uniforms enhance a stereotype that may or may not be true. As such a lot of people use them in bedroom role-play, taking on the roles for some fun and games: the cop does a stop and (strip) search on a suspect; the guard “inspects” a prisoner; the soldier rescues a hostage; the maid comes to do some room service – dressing the part adds to the fun of the game.
I haven’t done many uniform-oriented stories as Penelope Syn, although obviously we have the reform school series (school uniforms), and a lot of costumes of all sorts are used in the Lydia’s Path series. At various times she is a maid, a slave, a school-girl, and other things besides. As Lyvia Lynn Rose I did write a uniform-oriented series of ménage stories, using firemen, navy NCOs, police officers, and cruise stewards as my subjects of one girl-gets-two-guys.
Of course, contemporary uniforms are not all we need. If a uniform is defined as an immediately recognizable outfit that denotes status and an implied sexuality, then just about any form of fancy dress qualifies – from Roman centurion to sexy witch to cave man, they all do the job of presenting a face to the world and more importantly, to the person you are interested in.
In BDSM there is a lot of fetish wear, and not surprisingly I go into a great deal of it in many of the stories. In the Lydia’s Path series every training session Lydia has, every party she attends, great attention is paid to what she is wearing, even if she is wearing next to nothing at all.
Fetish wear covers a wide range of unusual things, and I won’t go into all of them because it would take too long, and probably some shouldn’t be mentioned anyway. I will go into what I have written about, because as ever clothing tells us something about the characters that are dressed.
It being BDSM, leather, rubber, PVC and other materials are common. For slaves, the costume is likely to be restraining in some way, or to give the appearance of restraint, such as a leather body harness. Corsets (that do not cover the bust) are common because they enhance a figure and restrict the wearer at the same time. If a dominatrix wears one, the enhancement is emphasized; if a submissive wears one the restriction is emphasized. Catsuits that cling to the body revealing everything while covering it up are also common: the character is fully covered but semi-naked at the same time.
What the person is expected to do is likewise a consideration – slaves that find themselves all but naked know that sex is on the cards, as well as punishment. Common slave wear are cuffs on the ankles and wrists, and a collar – the latter for status, the former for quickly and easily restraining them.
In several scenes, Lydia’s owner, Mistress Trudy, delivers her training while wearing thigh boots (indicating sexuality and status) and long evening gloves (sophistication and authority) and not much else so that Lydia can give unhindered attention to whatever parts her Mistress tells her to. This declares the highly sexual nature of the domination and at the same time maintains the authority of the dominatrix – she is highly sexual, but not naked as the slave is.
Some kinds of fetish wear go further; another archetype I’ve explored is the ponygirl; a girl who is treated like and is expected to act like a pony. Her outfit is usually revealing, and involves a bit and bridle, sometimes a saddle, usually a harness of some sort (often the ponygirl’s arms are restrained, pony’s don’t have arms), boots and sometimes gloves to imitate horse’s hooves’ and a tail. The latter is often attached to a butt-plug, but then ponies do not wear clothes so there should be few obstructions to showing off the tail.
Another item of fetish “clothing” is the chastity belt which I covered in my previous blog post on denial.
Whatever you wear, though, makes a statement – even if it’s with something no one sees, or the statement is “I don’t care what you think.”
Excerpt from Lydia’s Path #7: Time Off:
When we arose the next morning, we once again dressed in our maid’s costumes and attended to our duties. Despite being buzzed frequently, flirting outrageously and being frequently groped up by man and women both, we make it to lunch without being too far tested. After lunch, Mistress Trudy sends Amanda and me to change into new outfits ‘laid out for you’ and we withdraw quickly.
There is nothing laid out for us in our room except the keys for our chastity belts, and Amanda and I exchange a glance: this means we are to wear nothing. We quickly strip off until we are both nude except for our collars and belts, and we unlock one another and ease the dildos out of our holes with some relief. After being double-plugged for twenty or so hours I feel empty, and desperately horny.
Mistress Trudy is waiting for us on the landing, a pair of chain leashes dangling from her hand. She’s back in her leather cat-suit, and I’m wet at the sight of her. For months now she has been training and conditioning me like one of Pavlov’s dogs to become aroused in her presence, and to be able to climax simply on command. With an evil smile, but no comment, she leashes us both and leads us down into the large living room. Currently it’s empty save for Master Phillip and a new centerpiece: a large cage.
Standing on solid two-foot legs it is three feet high by three wide and about seven feet long. The floor of it is solid and a little padded, but the bars are widely spaced: a leg or arm can extend through them easily. One end opens wide and Master Phillip smiles lecherously at us both.
“In you go,” he says, threading the chains locked to our collars into the cage and through the bars of the roof in the middle. He tugs on them and Amanda climbs in first, and I follow her. Sitting up we have only inches of head clearance, it’s easier to recline, although it’s not exactly roomy. I shiver, feeling cold, and my nipples react predictably. Amanda is so close that I can feel the warmth from her body without us actually touching. My heart is pounding as the chains are locked to the roof of the cage, then the door clangs shut with a sound of finality and the lock turns with a an oily click.
Again that tingling thrill of confinement runs through me from my pussy to my fingertips.
“Now, dear sluts, your Mistress will bring in our guests first, and you will entertain them. You have permission to cum, you will not speak unless commanded, but you will obey whoever holds this wand,” he says, holding up a long electric wand. At the end it split into two electrodes and I wince just looking at it. “Now let’s have you making out like good little nymphos,” he orders, as the sound of approaching feet announce the imminent arrival of the guests.
Amanda moves close to me, slides an arm around me and kisses me deeply. I return her kiss, she is warm and yielding. Her lips are soft and her tongue invades my mouth slowly and teasingly as our breasts press together. My eyes close as we start to caress and touch one another. Amanda has become very dear to me, and when we are commanded to be intimate it’s always a pleasure. She starts to play with one of my breasts, while my fingers slip between her thighs and rub her slit slowly, and she moans softly into my mouth.
“… and here we have your initial entertainment, friends! These two sluts will do just about anything to get off, so feel free to play.” Mistress’ voice makes me flush as Amanda’s hand slips between my legs. It’s true, I will do almost anything to get off; I am that desperate. I can hear other people entering the room, surrounding the cage. “That’s enough of that!”
A stinging shock feels like a snap against my butt, and I squeak with pain. My eyes snap open, and see the room is full of the various Masters and Mistresses, in various states of dress and fetish-dress. I have barely time to form the image in my mind of our audience before Mistress punishes my cry of pain and tardy response.
“Quiet!” A second shock on the other cheek has me retreating from Amanda. “Push your cunt up against the bars here, slut,” Mistress continues. I back up on my hands and knees, my calves slide through the bars and my buttocks press against them so they frame my sex. A man next to Mistress puts his hand through and starts to feel me up. His thumb slips into my hole and his fingers stroke my clit and slit. I cannot restrain a soft moan of pleasure as he casually plays with my sex.
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Lydia’s Path #4: The Training
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Lydia’s Path #9: Ponyplay
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