There is something about leather I find completely irresistible. I cannot walk past it without inhaling deeply and losing myself in the scent. I know where it began, although I can’t pin point when.
“The air was heavy with the smell of leather and dust, of old parchment and binding glue. It smelled of secrets.”
Patrick Rothfuss
For me it wasn’t a book shop, it was a bag shop. And I was young, possibly around five but I’m not sure. I’d begged my parents to take me into the shop just so I could be surrounded by all those purses, wallets and bags. They were too expensive to buy and it always broke my heart having to leave the shop empty handed, leaving the heady scent behind.
Moving forwards a couple of years, my grandparents indulged me. Not in a bag and not from that shop. But to my beloved leather waistcoat that my parents refused to let me wear. That didn’t matter, I hid it in my wardrobe and smelt it every time I opened the doors.
In years to come I learnt to hide in that same wardrobe as I masturbated, surrounded by that scent. Thinking back I have to wondered if that’s where it developed into kink.
Now I indulge in that kink in different ways. Not just by inhaling that scent but how it feels against my skin. Whilst I do have leather floggers, they don’t linger for long enough to really feel the leather.
First up, I have my leather sleep sack. The restriction that gives me, especially if I am hooded too, puts me at ease. I’m left feeling restful and at ease. Part of that is down to the sensory deprivation, having all the stimuli taken away. But a big part is also the scent.
The other indulgence I have is his belt. I love that belt! There is the kiss as it licks my skin but even then you can’t feel the leather. I have been known to pick it up off the floor and stroke it against my face, inhaling it and getting lost in it.
But there is the other side of that. The sound as it creaks when he goes to undo it. The jangle of the buckle as he then unbuttons his jeans. His belt isn’t just intoxicating in itself but it’s also a sign of the fucking that is about to happen. I’m so in tune to the sound of his belt, it has been known when the cat is exploring the bedroom and steps on it and it jangles, I’ve woken out of my slumber and in need!
So there we have it. My name is Bee and I have a kink for leather! In a couple of weeks time I will be going back to where that little leather bag shop is. I just hope it has managed to last through this dreadful year. And this time, maybe I will treat myself to something new, something the young me could only have dreamt of.