Wear and tear

I posted this gif to my Tumblr recently. I now know it is from The Vampire Diaries but as I have never watched that show all I saw was a perfectly hot moment between two people that made my mind drift to thoughts of urgent passionate moments of lust.

Having your clothes torn off in the heat of the moment is without a shadow of a doubt hot as hell. However the practicalities of it rarely match up to the imagined moment. Most material is actually much harder to tear than you think, although buttons do have the potential to give way pretty easily and tights (pantyhose for the Murricans) and/or stockings are eminently tearable but it is unlikely anyone is going to rip your jeans off no matter how fucking determined they are. Despite all that I love the fucking idea of it.

This gif gives me so many filthy thoughts of being quite frankly ravished. It speaks to my consensual non-consent kink in a BIG way because he is most definitely the driving force; not that she is reluctant but his physicality in that moment, he power and strength is fucking hot to me. It makes me think of demanding hands, urgent kisses; raw lust that inspires sex that almost feels like a fight, where you are breathless with the desire and speed of it all. It brings back memories of torn stockings, a blow jobs in an alley way and a challenge to get my jeans off while I fought which left me bruised and delightfully sore. Although my jeans remained in one piece he did definitely manage to wrestle them off me.

Of course things change slightly if there is an implement handy which can aid with the removal of clothes but to me that leads to very different thoughts. Where tearing of clothes makes me think of hot urgent sex having my clothes cut off me makes me think of something more controlled and methodical. It makes me think of rope and chains, unbreakable restraints and a slow calculated removal of clothes. The urgency has been replaced with something calmer, darker, more sinister even though it is very different I find it equally as hot just in a very different way. I don’t think it is news to anyone that I have a huge kink for knives. I love the look of them, I love the ideas they represent, that prickle of fear that they bring with their cold sharp touch. I fucking love it when he uses a knife to leave angry hot welts on my flesh and if now and then he presses a little too hard and those lines are peppered with tiny droplets of my blood all the better in my mind. However knives, a really sharp knife (the only way they should be in my opinion) also makes for the ideal tool for cutting off clothes.

On one memorable occasion he requested that I wore underwear that I was ‘not attached to’ out to dinner. I had already told him that I had been keeping old bits of lingerie and stockings with ladders with the thought of sacrificing them at some point. I put on one of those pairs and we went out to dinner. When we got home he led me upstairs, took of my dress and pushed me down on the bed, as I squirmed to get away he produced the knife, grabbed one of my ankles and dragged me back to him and proceeded to cut off my bra and the little pink panties which he then stuffed into my mouth while he defiled my body. The whole thing was fabulous. There have been other times too, my stockings often fall afoul of the sharp edge of his blade. I think he finds something very satisfying about watching them put up a slight resistance before they give way in a series of holes and ladders that once started can’t stopped.

Today we took this picture. I played around with a couple of different ideas getting him to hold the knife in various places but when I went to turn my body slightly more towards the light I had to push back against him and he instinctively did this. It was perfect and to be honest I only just remembered to press the trigger and take the picture because the moment his hand closed around my throat and he pushed the blade down into the flesh of my breast to get to the strap, photographs where the last thing on my mind…