Handiwork

P has a fixation with my hands.  Mainly because ever since our first session together, my hands are the first thing she sees.  I offer her my right hand to be formally kissed.  Her lips are allowed to touch the back of my hand.  My hands are the centre of her world when we are together.  I have one vice, I smoke.  P loves to see me roll a cigarette, the way my fingers place the tobacco in the rolling machine, turn and twist, then the paper, turn and twist, lick the paper edge, turn and twist, release the cigarette.  She watches me make up small batches for my tin whenever she stays or I am with her.  Her eyes sparkle and dance as she watches.  She seems almost hypnotised.

She loves my nails whether they are painted or not.  I like my nails to have a length.  I look after them.  I smooth and buff them, file them carefully.  I love to paint them with bright colours, mainly dark pinks, purples, dark reds, maroons though during the summer I will be more daring with blues especially on my toenails.  I prefer to paint my own fingernails however, I love to watch my hussy paint my toenails.  It's all part of my essential maintenance and something that I use as part of her servitude to me.  I know that it is something she enjoys.  When I first instructed her to do this, P was clearly nervous but now I do it in a less formalised atmosphere and she knows what is expected of her.  She views it as an honour and a privilege to serve me and loves to pamper me.  And I love being pampered.

Whenever we are together, she knows she will be expected to perform hand massages and foot pedicures.  But with my hands it goes much further than just admiring them.  From the beginning, I've used my hands as objects of pleasure and pain.  I stroke my hussy, stroke her hair, her body especially over her breasts and back.  I use my fingers.  I pinch and play with her nipples, tickle her many sensitive areas.  I use my hands to excite and arouse, play with my hussy any way I want to.  Then I switch tack.  I use my hand to smack her bottom.  I watch as her skin turns from white to rosy pink and then to red.  I scrape my nails over her sensitive red skin making her jump.  I slip my hands between her thighs and feel how wet she is.  I have trained her to like being spanked, how it arouses her, makes her wet.  Make her beg for more.  Know she is embarrassed to ask for more.  I marvel at the hand prints I leave behind.  Sometimes I pinch her sweet spot while spanking to add new dimensions.  I use my fingers to train her anally, probing and stretching, inserting her butt plugs, twisting and pulling.  I have spanked her while wearing a butt plug giving her a new set of feelings.  I like to try out new ways and surprise her.  I have used wax and ice on her body, seen her react, draw sharp breath, mew and moan.

I have photographed my handiwork, when I feel the time is right I may post some of them here or on FL.  She knows this will happen one day.  My hands also hold implements that I use on her.  Nipple clamps that I apply, crop, flogger, ruler and hair brush.  She knows my hands control her as much as my words.  Yet she finds them irresistible whether they are used for my pleasure, her pleasure or her pain.  But always she loves the contact of my hands on her body.  She misses and mourns them when we are apart.  She can visualise every centimetre of them from my wrists to my fingernails.  My rings, my nails, how they feel, their touch on her skin, whether the touches are soft or hard.  She has watched me bathe, use my hands to scrub, shave, cleanse.  Even when I simply do the washing up, she sees my hands as something beautiful.  My handiwork is many things, many layers, applications and sensations.  During aftercare I use my hands to soothe and comfort, caress and love.  Let her know she is safe.  Most of all, whatever side of our relationship, my handiwork is loved.