Years ago when I first decided to expose my deep interest in latex, I suddenly found a new society of ‘fame’. By coming out with my rubbery wishes and fantasies, I suddenly had a bunch of fans coming to me from the internet, and it got me curious. The new found support from masses of men online writing to me, made me feel quite powerful actually. I was wanted. It was nice, and I wanted to capitalise on it. Not necessarily monetarily, but in some ways I thought, ‘this is where I will find my new partner in life’, and ‘this is where I have an outlet to dish out all the repugnance I had for the relationships I had in the past that went bad over – rubber.
I realised that by deciding to take control of my fantasies, and only accepting the guys that knew and were happy with that in my life, I could be whole and relieved again. I recently had some venom in my life left over from some cry for help that turned sour and left me abused, and now my relationship with men was a a love hate thing. So much that I wanted to disassociate from real relationships and just have the fun part. Latex was for me the safest sex, my bad experiences had heightened my need for fetish and it’s safeness.
The men that wrote to me, would refer to themselves in very humble ways, it healed me, made me feel in control, and surely if they wanted to pay tribute, I would gladly accept. Knowing that I was fully in control, and able to reek out some hidden poison from my life on this miserable little being I had dehumanised into a gimp. My whole world was now latex porn. Meeting new masked bodies, secure in the disassociation from reality, protected from flesh by latex.
I was not advertising myself as a mistress. I never proclaimed myself to be. I was just a woman, madly into her rubber, healed by her sexual desires that were displaced like an addiction to latex porn. I took the philosophy that if for the time being rubber would heal me, and I could enjoy myself, then the little man that asked for it, got what he deserved and needed. Only under the roleplay of rubber though. I could only feel my senses come alive when bound in latex. The roleplay was just a means to using my rubber.
Please remember that I was actually too young and sheltered from actually knowing what all this was about. I had found a creative way of dealing with my problems, and I envisaged this to be temporary. I was aware that if I did not heal, I would likely suffer with some form of Dominitis and become a misguided man-hater for the rest of my life, presumptious that all men really deserve pain.
If you want a real latex mistress, you have to find someone with a real fetish, not just a mistress with rubber up her sleeve to shove up your butt to her armpit. Or next thing you know you just had your guts ripped out by a woman who doesn’t know how to therapy you. And girls, domming is fun, but do it for the right reasons. Mine was latex porn, seeing Mistress Sandra in control. If domming is a one way vengeance thing, you will not heal yourself and likely cause further damage to the poor desperate soul that came to you in the first place.
I still have a latex fetish – Obviously! I just don’t have a need to have a fan club of 100,000 people and play nasty with every rubber perv I meet. I’m happy keeping it mostly to myself these days, except for sharing it with you guys here on Latex porn. Consider yourselves lucky as I don’t give these insights anymore on places like Myspace, Informed consent, or Fetlife anymore. I only flash my rubber gusset here.
Latex always looks so cool It’s almost a rule when I go out. But there are consequances; after hours of prancing and dancing around in thick layers with extreme corsets on, I am guaranteed to have sweat my load into every crevice of my suit. The moment I step back outside to return home after a night out – I FEEL COLD AND WET!! and the longer the time it takes to get home, the more rancid and irritable I might feel.
The first thing I do when I get back is take a dive in the bath tub WITH all my latex gear ON. That way I get it off easier and everything gets washed all at the same time. Because I am quite lazy it’s better to kill two birds with one stone but never ever neglect care of latex.
Never will I go back to the days of learning minger where my latex was hastily taken off and shoved in a sweaty ball under the bed until I could be bothered to deal with it. YUK. It’s a job getting into it, and a job getting out, but do the bath thing and at least you are looking after your latex.
I have to seperate my fun with latex from pleasure. If I am dressing up to go out, it’s a challenge to ignore the sensation of wearing it, but I have to tune out of it or else I will rapidly find it uncomfortable. So sadly, NO I get no personal pleasure at all now from wearing latex – out in public. To me it’s as normal as any other day, with the added task that it is a challenge and often an encumbrance is to showcase oneself. LOOKING GOOD KILLS. So I live with it. Latex looks good, but out and about, it is never 100% comfortable, and often a physical challenge: Just like High heels, Killer corsets, Headache Hairdos, or Makeup that wants to make your skin melt away…
Now, If I am dressing for personal pleasure, thats a different story. I like well fitted things, preferably moulded actually, as the time I would spend in it I would then end up with seam creases embedded in my skin. I like the thin latex, but then have a craving for more tightness, restriction and difficulty in the heavy rubber. So, I rather like to spend my time say 2 hours, slowly getting more layers on, and this time enjoying the sensations.
It is not at all similar to going out in latex. I have learned now from many occasion, that although I can enjoy the sensation of latex, it becomes a chore to do so in public, without at a whim the use of a bathroom. Dreading the return journey and how tiredness rapidly affects your comfort levels past the ‘sweat buckets’ point. Contrary to what people think, you dont sweat from heat or it being hot in rubber- you sweat from exersion and discomfort. And once sweaty, it stays in contact slurping over your skin. Not enjoyable for me if I am thinking about getting home. Only enjoyable if I really want to sit down and watch that latex porn, or play around in the bedroom.
Scene 9: The Latex Fantasy Domme, is one of my recent acts in a new feature Film targeted for release in 2010. ‘Learning Hebrew’ is a British Comedy that will touch on some sensitive issues. Latex porn being nearly one of them. Without giving too much away, other than some of the whacky latex costumes, here is a video journal extracted from a typical 12-14 hour day of filming.
You can debate whether my acting would be true of a Dominatrix or not. I don’t actually class myself as one, just someone who assertively knows what I want – in rubber. But if you were paying for a fantasy, this is where filmmakers can completely take artistic liberty. Well, If I were paying a whole crew, location, set up, and rubber wranglers, for 14 hours, I’d expect a Latex porn fantasy too. It is more common now in mainstream to see Latex and the artistic license on some far fetched domination roleplay. However, if this lights your curiosity, there is little chance of turning back. Once you’ve followed the threads into Latexporn on the internet, I expect the bait is hooked. The styling and visuals of latex may find you suffering anything standard as rather pallid.
Bringing Latexporn ideas into a feature was a coincidental goal of the director, and strictly speaking it isn’t really porn at all. Specific details are similarly attended to – on top of generating the story thread, thus the crew involved dramatically increases. Much as people want to give you the respect of discretion – it simply isn’t possible.
You cant be an actress, and expect to cover erotic styled footage without expecting overexposure in a crew environment. In fact – I feel more aprehensive for the crew who occasionally are not sure how to deal with me, in embarrasment or afraid to offend me. I am so used to modelling for the sake of an artistic erotic result little phases me except the concerns of ashaming others for maybe being too lewd. I’m used to making sure that stuffed boob job is palpated into the right direction, and sometimes never realise the puns I pull off everytime on a pervy set. Trust me it’s all in complete innocence, when I am working, I am not thinking about the eroticism for me, I am thinking more about the result i’m giving to the audience. This is a talent, after working 14 hours on a shoot, to be able to be motivated and convey the aura is more wearing than erotic for oneself! And the actual achievement after a day’s filming like that? It’s literally ONE short scene of a few minutes. I’ve had plenty experience of this.
The challenge really would be to wench-bitch-whore-slut around in a fetish movie. Seeing as I plan on making my own fetish movie featurette at some point, I’m guessing I would be comfortable anyway because I would pick my own crew – or wear a latex mask then it wont matter. It would probably be in homage to the styling like marquis media – very surreal!
I used to perv at the young men on the beach in their wetsuits. Now I have youtube and it’s diversity of frogmen all domesticised making cups of tea and still wearing their breathing apparatus. Laughs out loud at my own version of Latexporn. I think I’m terrible for managing to cream off wank material off youtube. As a fetishist though, things can be innately non-sexual for me to really find them attractive. Somehow I managed to gather my own collection of gimps. I think I pulled them mostly off myspace, … and what to do with them? Well, we made a short mainstream film for a start? It was great. It made it into New York’s Cinekink filmfestival, and got me onto IMDB. Not my idea of Latex porn by any means, but a good laugh to bridge a gap between fetishists and mainstream. (wait ’till I make my own version of Latexporn, that’s me slap in the middle by the way)
If you’re gay, it must be hard enough finding someone. If you’re a fetishist I realise that hidden sexuality is even less likely to match, let alone dealing with the personality match. So what else is there to do than find all the latexporn I can? Oh and cut the bullcrap of matching personalities and conversational qualities, just give me a gimp! I realise that I do not represent the needs or interest maybe of the average woman. But let me explain my main reason for my ‘love’ of gimps .. among still many more things. Here is one of them:
There is a very good use for gimps. Women change and evolve, even though men want us to stay the same. We go through phases, like our bodies live on a different clock. We change our looks all the time to keep our mystery, our seductiveness, and finally that keeps us attractive.
Our opinions may change over time too, we are a fickle lot. Seeing as our bodies go through growing changing phases of youth and woman hood, and even put us through an emotional monthly cycle; We – are entitled, no matter how confusing it is to the genetically inferioir and less complete race of men.. to rewrite our wants and needs. Our sexuality is based more in the mind, we are more creative or need creativity around us, but sadly bore easily. Yes, us women, are the guilty parties for moving on. A man has to find new ways to fulfil us or be left behind.
Men (to me anyway) are just dicks. The sooner you realise this, the less dissatisfaction you will have later on.
You might find a useful dick to fit your phase of life for a while, but owing to a woman’s changing nature, we’ll get bored of them, we’ve sampled their genepool of missing chromasomes, and when they start talking too much about themselves, pull the fucking gag out ladies. He forgot he was just a sex object. Talking about ourselves, is a woman thing, men are just supposed to listen and be support your changing gameplan. If a man starts talking about himself too much, I would have to be a lesbian to love him, but I cant cos he has a dick.
Don’t get me wrong, I like men. All kinds of men. But they are just for my toybox. Pull one out when I need one, ideally a rubber one. Gimps don’t talk and bore me with their idiosyncracies. I can adore their muscular beauty like a man wanks over his shiny new car. A Lithe slim gimp is also a seductive object to me, in homage to an effeminate forme. Gimps are attractive, even if they are effeminate, because they are distilled version of manhood. Without wobbly fleshy disgusting bits, safe to use, aesthetically pleasing, sterile… There is nothing less manly about them to be attracted to, if anything, for me, only the best properties on show. He is, I might say, as objectified as a dildo.
Rather like romans selling their slaves, I think there should be a gimp trade. If as a woman I need someone to masculinely rough me about – I would still want it to be a matter of fact gimp. Like some hooded henchman hangman, gimps are not there to be weak and pathetic for me. They can be braun, without the self opinionated rambling I don’t want to hear.
Keep one in the wardrobe for later. Guys? I will just point out it’s often easier to act, and for the lady to accept a whole new gameplay if you are zentaid up. Surreal satisfaction both sides. A degree of seperation from reality can keep the fantasy, and relationship alive. I just happen to live in a fantasy world.
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