The Risqué Section

This section is not for everyone.

The photos and writing here are of a kinky nature.

Sensation play can be powerful and claws are surprisingly threatening, especially when used in numbers. The tormentor has control of the claws as though they were a part o f their body.

Model Stevie Shae wearing Kinky Claws

Thank you Morpheous and his princess for the beautiful photos!

Night Out

Last month I attended a fetish event in downtown Toronto. I went solo. There were lots of people I knew from the thriving local scene and many of us were there with the cultural group, the Box Club. One of my friends, Archer was also there without a date. I was wearing my silver corset outfit and he was particularly fetching in a pair of thick latex pants with one of those zippers that goes all the way around. He smiled when I told him what it made me want to do to him!​​

Later that night, I saw something I had never seen before: Archer was acting as a Top! Maybe seeing him dominating a woman helped awaken my own Domme energy for him. That was when I realized we were both there without dates and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity. I didn’t have many toys with me, but didn’t need more than my hands and my claws for a sensation scene.
I asked him if he wanted to play and he said, “Let’s go.”
The play space wasn’t crowded so we got the piece of equipment I wanted: a spanking horse. Archer stripped to the waist and I demonstrated the pose I wanted him in, kneeling upright and straddling the bench. A rope demo was starting on the dance floor next to our part of the play area, so we were well lit. As an exhibitionist, I thought it was a pity that people wouldn’t be watching us, but I was about to get my talons into a man I’d been flirting with for years so I was happy! (Archer told me later that some young women had noticed how “into it” he had looked.)

Circling him, I covered his torso and arms with sharp little slaps to bring the blood to the surface of his skin, making it more resilient… and sensitive. I hugged him from behind. “You don’t need pain to tell you you’re mine, for this moment”, I thought, “You are in my strong embrace.” Then I let him go and came around the bench to his front.
I put the clamps on Archer’s nipples and then I put ten clear, plastic claws on my fingertips. I scratched up and down his broad back, on both of the diagonals with fingers spreading and contracting. I especially enjoyed clawing his chest, his arms, and his head as I could watch his reactions. His face flashed from delight to rapture to surprise. It was delicious!
Pulling the silver chain connecting the clamps with my teeth accentuated the intimacy of the moment. After carefully removing the clamps, I squeezed and twisted with five sharp claws on each of his nipples. His surprise transformed into awe then culminated in the ecstasy of the moment! Archer’s submission touched me as a sub rarely does. This pleasure went beyond the joy of simple domination!
A few times, he lost balance and had to lean back to get support from the railing. (Note to self: find a way to support the claw sub, without limiting access.) We had a wonderful time and the scene came to a natural end. Archer cleaned our bench and we left the play area. We talked and hugged afterwards and both of us agreed: it was a fantastic scene! He was amazed that I could evoke such sensations with just a set of claws.

​Scratch 2017

Fiction from a friend in Australia

The giggles mingled with the moans, floating around the bedroom of the Apartment.
He cracked open a single eye, as the giggle began to deepen into a throaty cackle that was filthy, sexy, dirty, compelling and filled with glee!
His head rolled to the left on the crisp white pillow and his eye took in the view over the city and sparkling waters of the bay and river that the city was built around.
The giggle/throaty cackle had ceased... as had all movement of her hands.
Her entire body was suddenly still.... 
He could feel her stillness above him - yet he felt anything but still.
He throbbed, every cell in his body trembled, yet there was no movement, no touch, no pain, no noise.
Why did he feel like he was on a roller coaster?
He slightly opened his other eye, still with his head to the left.
He took a deep breath and opened both eyes fully. Then allowed his hearing to open... no noise from the unmoving, silent woman he knew was poised above him.
Yet he could hear strumming... He hummed... He purred.
And throbbed.
He looked at the view and noticed the golden rays of the setting sun as they bounced off the glass of the skyscrapers and the waters of the Bay.
He slowly turned his head to the centre, viewing the white ceiling...
The ceiling was humming, it quavered .... that couldn't be right?
He slowly lowered his eyes to the woman.
She was poised above him. Kneeling between his splayed legs.
She wore only his T shirt ... it was oversized and sloppy... falling far, far down her shoulder and neck... exposing most of her breast .... but there was no glimpse of nipple even though he could see the hard nubs through the soft cotton.
His eyes slowly traced a path along the fine silver stretch marks.... marks he had traced with is tongue.
How long ago had his tongue been on those silver lines??
When had she put his T shirt on? 
How long had he been lying here on the bed?
How long had she been torturing him?
No it wasn't torture.... he couldn't call it torture.
What was it? Why didn't the English language have a word for what she was doing to him? What was the word for what his body felt?
Pain? Excitement? Aching? Irritation? Vexation?
And his mind? His feeling and emotions?
His body throbbed and strummed.... a guitar!
He knew that he wasn't a guitar? Maybe a Bass guitar?
Yeah that was how he felt... like a bass guitar being played by John Paul Jones... No that wasn't it...
He lifted his eyes from the silver strings on her breast to her face.
Yeah she had guitar strings on her breasts...that made sense?
That was why he felt like a bass guitar being played by her hands.
A brief glance at her face before he slammed his eyelids shut and he knew he was wrong .... and in trouble.
Led Zeppelin and JPJ had no part of this....
James Jameson and the grooves of Motown was what was strumming and vibrating through him and through the room.
He slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at her...
At her smirk
At the wicked gleam in her eyes that were brighter than any rays bouncing off the glass outside the window.
At the way she held herself still... yet the animation in her face made it seem like she was bouncing... bopping to one of the Funk Brothers hits... grooving on and over his body. 
She was playing her own concert on his naked flesh... but wasn't moving!
The smirk became a smile... a carnal, wonton smile.
Well at least she was enjoying herself.... he was terrified... yet not.
Terror was a useless emotion in this room.... he trusted her implicitly.
Even if she did take an unholy glee in his reactions.... she fed off his reactions... they bought her pleasure .... bought her peace... made her happy.
Her being happy, pleasured and fulfilled made him peaceful... made him happy...made him calm.
A peace he only got when she was around... when she made the decisions... when she did what she wanted... when he followed.
Yet when he did her bidding, followed her, made her happy, he always felt it was he who was the winner.
She moved... actually she bounced... gleefully, she wiggled and bounced upon the bed between his legs.
Then blew him a kiss...
The bright red claws attached to her fingertips flashed in the sun....
And they landed ...  on his skin... they skimmed... they plucked... they scratched... they strummed... upon him.
And he throbbed...  his body oscillated... every cell vibrated.
And he roared...
The roar of a winner
The roar of pleasure... of pain... of happiness!
She giggled, "oh harden up sunshine... it's only a little bit of plastic"
She flashed the claws in front of his eyes then returned them to his body.
Watching as his skin changed colour then returned to normal.
Giggled as he wiggled, twitched, squirmed and undulated under her clawed finger tips.
"I think I need some in pink?" 
She stated at she began a plucking motion up and down his inner thigh.
He grinned inwardly.
Well the Lady doesn't always get what she wants he though to himself, as he writhed under her hands....
He'd already ordered black ones to match the cuffs he'd ordered yesterday.
He wondered if he could get Silver to match the D rings?

​Jane 67