Painted Black

My name is Leslie, and I am a self-binder.  Like many other self-binders, I have certain kinks that work their way into my bondage sessions.  Some people like to get dressed up, like in leather or latex, some like to incorporate the possibility of discovery and/or humiliation into their bondage play. Some people even enjoy being tortured to the point that the pain is soooo bad, it becomes pleasurable.  So, with that in mind, my kink isn't so bizarre.  I just like to be painted when I'm tied. And I don't mean painted as on some canvas or mural, what I mean, is that I like to paint my skin, hair, ropes, shackles, everything to some color or colors.

Once, I decided to do the simple black body painting with black ropes to bind me with.  I was 17 and it was homecoming weekend. We won the game that Friday night so everyone went out to celebrate by getting drunk and then getting laid.  I, as always, was alone.  Not that I was ugly back then, five foot five, 30B-26-32, with shoulder length lightly reddish blonde hair, it was just that all of the other girls in school were prettier, blonder, with bigger boobs, and were about a thousand times easier to get the panties off of than me.  Sluts that they were, they still had a lot more fun than I did every weekend.

Not this weekend though.  Saturday after the game I got my gear and toys ready.  About 6:30 I took a long hot bath.  It was in that bath that I shaved every last hair from the surface of my skin, save for my head hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes.  My leg, feet, pussy patch, stomach, breasts, arm pits, arms, hands, face, and neck all felt the brush of the blade.  No lotion to soothe the burn though, I just soaked away until quarter past seven. 

"Where were my parents?" you ask.  Most any night they went to bed at 8:00 but on the weekends they lived it up until 8:15.  They work all day and sleep all night, as long as I keep good grades and not get pregnant, I am allowed to do as I please.  From the bath I walked naked to my room. My parents are already in bed watching TV.  In my room, I retrieve my canvas sheet drop cloth from my closet and my paint box from under the bed.  My heart is racing now as I remember how I slowly opened the gallon can of black acrylic house paint.  What can I say, it was cheap and easy to clean up except from those nasty little body hairs that I now no longer had. 

I let the smell fill the air as I retrieved my bondage things. Tonight it would be black over black tied to black and covered in black.  Not always the case though, if you remember 'Tarzan the Ape Man' or something like that, the one with Bo Derrick where she is stripped naked and then her entire body is painted a shiny, wet, gloss white.  That was the beginning of bondage and paint for me. I never look back except to see if my ass needs another coat.  Ha, ha.

The rope was cut into several sections, each section was for a different purpose. Crotch rope, ankle tie, breast binding, and corset were some of my most used sections.  If you are curious, corset is where you wrap the rope around your waist and continue upward until your tits feel like they are about to touch your chin.  Love that one.  I laid out my corset, crotch rope, breast binding, and a rope gag that was just a bit gag made of ¼ inch rope.  I also laid out my black hand cuffs.  I believe back then I only had four colors of cuffs, silver, white, black, and of course purple.

Leaving my tarp for a moment, I went to my closet to dress, if you could call it that.  The only clothing I intended to wear that night was a pair of black pantyhose and a pair of black high heel pumps.  With these on I stood in the middle of the tarp and started to paint.  I dipped my two inch brush into the black and drew a cold, wet bead along the inside of my left calf.  I worked quickly and soon finished both legs. My arms soon disappeared into the darkness.  In my full length mirror, next to the tarp, I saw only a head and a naked torso.  Starting at my pussy lips, I mopped the dark night across my abs, breasts, neck, but stopped at my chin. 

I had to wait, wait for the ceiling fan to dry my body before I could continue.  It was during this opportune time that I did my hair.  The faint of heart might use a wig, but I went all out.  I purchased several cans of spray on hair coloring from the Halloween shop in the mall. As the paint on my boobs became noticeably thicker and stickier, my hair went from strawberry to gothic vampire.  The shop also sold face paint which I used to do my eyes, ears, nose, cheeks, and forehead.  Soon, all I could see were the whites of my eyes and my lips.  The black lipstick made short work of the lips.  I told you that I went all out. 

The mirror allowed me to check for missed spots and the hair spray filled them in nicely.  The paint quickly dried and the second phase began as I retrieved my thick 6" vibrator from my chest of drawers.  In the dimly lit room, my blackened hands seemed to cause the brightly lit, neon pink cock to float in midair.  Setting it to its lowest speed, I slid it deeply into my slit.  The crotch rope soon followed it as now I was being cut in two by a force, invisible to the eye but not to the sense of touch.  The "ghostly ropes" soon encircled my breasts, tightly squeezing them into taught shapes resembling large eggplants.  Touch ups with the hair coloring and then came the corset. 

I looped the starting end of the rope around the foot of my bed to give it constant tension.  The start of the rope tied one breast binding to another making them push outward even more.  The ropes then went down and started winding around my abs, then up, up, up, and up until my nipples were on top of the rope corset.  Touch up, touch up. Now the gag. It fitted deeply in my mouth but not so much that I had to bear my teeth. That would ruin the effect.  I was ready to go for a walk.  Taking my black handcuffs and tossing the key onto my pillow, I closed the paint and walked out of the house through the back door. There was no moon out tonight so it was if I had become a part of the living night. 

A shadow, come alive to take part in a ritual of sexual lust and physical restraint that only occurred each millennium.  I walked down the alley between my neighborhoods. Single family houses, nice yards, normal people.  And here I was, walking through their yards at 8:00 at night twirling a pair of hand cuffs painted up like a gothic figure from an Ozzfest tour. 

The air was cool and the stars were beautiful.  This made me think, "wonder who is getting gotten out on 'lover's lane?'"  It was only about a quarter mile parallel to the train tracks.  I could do that in heels.  As I passed the end of the houses and headed into an open field, I felt compelled to stop under the fluorescent light on the corner.  I checked the street and saw nothing.  As I approached, I kept looking down wondering how much I could see of myself.  The pole was the only thing that made me realize the extent of my work.  As I held up my hand to touch it I realized that I couldn't see my hand unless it was silhouetted against the pole. It was either the satisfaction of well done work or the vibe that made me smile all of the rest of the way to lover's lane. 

There were five cars there, fellow students who wanted their dates to help them "check the suspension in the shocks."  You had to know these guys for that to make sense.  There was not a working street lamp for 500 feet and all of the cars were dark.  I tightly grasped the hand cuffs and approached the first car.  Jason Binder was getting a blow job in the driver's seat.  I was terrified that someone might see me, but they were too preoccupied and I was too well camouflaged for that to be likely. 

I moved from one car to another, seeing the sexual acts that I so longed for.  Oral sex, vaginal sex, fingering, touching, petting, Melissa Sebesta even brought what looked like a foot long dildo to stuff herself with while her boyfriend filled her ass.  With the meat he had, she was probably a pessimist looking at the half empty glass, and finding it in her purse, next to the tube of KY Jelly. 

I was getting really hot when I remembered the handcuffs.  Locking one side onto my left wrist, I felt a whim take over me. I slipped the chain through my crotch rope before shackling it back to my right wrist.  Each tug of the cuffs cut deeper into my young womanhood.  Just then, Jason got out of his car. I jumped back and as quietly as possible, I walked to a short rock pile.  The light from his open door must have blinded him because he walked right up next to me and never flinched.  He whipped out his cock and pissed on the pile less than three feet from me. 

The vibrator must have sensed my fear because I swear it got stronger by the second.  I prayed just to let him finish before I collapsed in orgasm.  He did, just barely, finish before returning for some more of Terri's tongue studded luvin'.  I fell apart, my orgasm made me loose my footing on the rock pile and land on my ass.  Someone must have heard me because I saw faces in the windows instead of tits and asses.  Time to go. I stood up and ran back down the street, ducked into the alley behind my house and never touched the ground the entire way. 

I unlocked the cuffs and fingered myself around the crotch rope to another orgasm.  That one wiped me out.  I laid back on my bed and reveled in the depravity and sensuality of what I had done and seen.  To clean up, I took another long bath at 11:30. Three and a half hours of black paint and bondage.  That bath yielded more, subtler orgasms, but none the less satisfying.  My last thoughts before bed were, "If we win the game next week, I'll need to borrow the video camera for my walk."      

Good night.

04.11.02