If someone came up to you and said: “I want you to go get the messiest thing in world, smear it all over yourself first thing in the morning, don’t clean it off until the end of the day so it gets into everything, your clothes, your house, your car, your bed, your hair your food, everything” would you thank them after?
I have seen glitter as a limit, glitter as a punishment, but glitter as a reward? I have yet to see it. My Domme is a glitofile, yes one of Her fetishes is Glitterphilia and it’s become somewhat routine for me to be inundated with glit. If someone were to do a forensic analysis of my surroundings, work, home, commute, they would assume i was tinkerbell spreading fairy dust.
Each time i glit there’s a moment, two voices in my head converge: One that says do it – it’s sexy She loves seeing you covered in glitter all shiny and sparkly, just do it. The other voice says – what the f@$* are you doing, don’t you realize you are putting lipstick on your penis? That it stains your pants and your shirt? The dry cleaner thinks you cum rainbow? The glitter is going to be everywhere? That it’s already everywhere? Do you know how much time it takes to clean this up? After you wash your hands? Then you wash the sink? Then you wash the tap? Then you repeat? Are you kidding me?
The third voice is loudest and silences the two; “cupcake…” yes Mistress? “Glitter…” Yes Mistress. It’s sooooo not about glitter, it’s about how it becomes part of my life, inundating every part of me with Her.
So i say Thank You.
Please wait a couple weeks before the next application i just got my vacuum working again…
These panties have a lot of bling, they are classy, they are flashy, but truly nothing compares to the pleasure of being the Her tinkerbell.
