Title:

Confessions Collection Vol. 1 was one of those books that took me a bit longer to read than usual because I had a hard time figuring out what was going on at first.

London Brown, Caden Jacob Carrington the Fifth, Rhys Christos Edward Stowell, and Desniah Williams. From an outsider perspective, these are four of the youngest and most powerful people in British society. But the insider perspective is very different.

When Desniah is discovered as little girl, she can only say one word: London. Eventually, she’s adopted, but at the age of nine, something happens that turns her world upside down yet again.

The main thing I didn’t understand was the relationship between Desniah and London. I didn’t think they actually had one. I thought London was just the name that Desniah used when she was working as a call girl. But that isn’t true at all. Desniah and London are two entirely separate people. London is aware of everything that happens to them both but Desniah is not. In many ways, London does look out for her ‘other’ personality – but not in all ways.

London has a strong self-preservation instinct and she’ll act to defend herself when she feels threatened. And the person who most scares her is Rhys.

Both Rhys and Caden are firmly attracted to Desniah.

Caden is willing to accept London as a substitute. Rhys is not.

Desniah is attracted to Rhys and repelled by Caden but thinks she has a future with neither.

If there is a good way out of this, I don’t yet see what it is.

Very cerebral. I liked it, but wasn’t particularly engaged by the play scenes.

Tickle your fancy? You can buy Confessions Collection Vol. 1 by clicking on the following links:

Smashwords

• Confessions Collection Vol. 1 (London Brown) – epub, PDF, RTF, LRF

Amazon.co.uk

• Confessions Collection Vol. 1 (London Brown) - Kindle

Amazon.com

• Confessions Collection Vol. 1 (London Brown) - Kindle

Editor’s note: Confessions Collection Vol. 1 (London Brown) is an erotica – and a dark one at that – but it isn’t a ménage despite the number of protagonists. Those who are sensitive to reading about scenes of abuse should proceed with caution.

This book was provided free of charge by the author in exchange for a fair review.

The post Confessions Collection Vol. 1 (London Brown) – Leila DeSint appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

What we used: Rattan cane
From: Bondara
Price: £16.99
Material(s): Rattan (cane), leather (handle)

*Important: Canes can hurt in bad ways as well as good ways! If you haven’t already, please do take the time to read the Behind the Chintz Curtain Disclaimer before delving further into this post.

First thoughts …

Lizzie
Excitement and dread.

It’s fair to say that Thomas and I have been on a bit of a journey these past few years with impact instruments; first hands, then paddles, then floggers, then straps, then crops, and now, finally, a cane. We’d been discussing the idea of trying one for a while but had been gradually building up as we knew from all the research we’d done on them (and from playing with our other impact toys) that the pain level would likely be quite a jump. Additionally, because of their greater length, there was the worry that a cane would be trickier to control.

In the end, it was Thomas who took the bull by the horns and ordered  it – I was too chicken!

What it looks like …

Lizzie
Like a looong stick. This is a very simple implement and there’s not much to it. It’s basically a length of flexible rattan (81.5 cm of rattan, to be precise) with a strip of soft suede wrapped around one end to create a handle.

While the exterior barrel of the cane is smooth, the two ends (where the rattan has been sliced through) are actually quite rough. Not really a big deal from a use perspective as these parts don’t – or shouldn’t – touch the skin, but not wildly attractive.

I already knew from reading and questioning others that thinner canes are generally more ‘stingy’ and fatter ones more ‘thuddy’, so the newbie in me was pleased to see that this Bondara cane clocked in with a diameter of approximately 1.0 cm. Reasonably chunky! 

Another plus? It’s not made of bamboo, which we’d been warned off due to its tendency to split and crack.

Thomas
It’s a bit hard to pick what a cane will be like from descriptions online. I knew I didn’t want a thin ‘whippy’ one to start with so, was quite pleased to find that the Bondara cane was relatively robust.

Lizzie’s right, it is a very simple thing; a thick bit of rattan (about as thick as your finger) with some leather wrapped around the end. It’s also nice and smooth, with no splits or cracks (very important). 

Using it …

Lizzie
When this arrived and Thomas let me see what he’d ordered, I got into a bit of a dither. On the one hand, I was really looking forward to having it used on me. On the other, I was worried about having it applied and not being able to cope. (Mind you, I was the same way the first time we used a crop!)

Then Thomas put it away in a cupboard, and that just ramped up the anticipation ten-fold. It’s fair to say, I drove him pretty nuts with questions about when he would be getting it out, whether he’d been practising with it in private, and whether he’d re-read all of the educational texts we have on the subject.

Yeah, I was a pain.

The inevitable response was. ‘I’m not telling you. Relax. You know I’ll be careful.’ (And I do know. He always is.)

The cane finally made an appearance about two weeks after it was delivered, and I knew it was coming because Thomas really took his time to build things up. He didn’t go straight in with it but spent a good forty minutes to an hour getting my head in the right place and warming the skin of my buttocks – first with his hands and then with a wooden paddle. Eventually, he leaned me over a piece of furniture and secured my legs with a spreader bar so that I couldn’t wriggle around. (A good idea because you don’t want to be able to shift position unexpectedly when it’s coming towards you and cause an incorrect placement.)

The first strike was a shock – and the sting very sharp – but, oddly, put my mind at ease because once I knew what the sensation was like, it immediately made it much easier to deal with. (Sometimes my imagination is my own worst enemy.)

Interestingly, the pain a cane strike generates is two-fold. There’s a sting when it first hits, followed by a second bloom of pain a moment or two later.

Thomas’s first blow was relatively restrained and he stopped and checked in with me immediately afterwards to make sure I handled it okay. From there, he incrementally increased the pressure, placing strokes in straight, parallel lines across my bottom. On the third one, he checked in verbally again and I requested that he switch sides so that the tip of the cane landed on a different cheek.  (The end was generating a fair amount of sting in a relatively localised area and given my newness to the instrument, I didn’t want to push things too far too soon.)

We did six strokes in total – three on each side – and my backside was on absolute glorious fire by the end. While it was still smarting, Thomas tipped wax from a wax-play candle over the welts and just about had me leaping through the ceiling. I believe the words ‘sadistic bastard’ were used but quickly forgotten as the session morphed into something else entirely .

A final note. I should just mention that canes have ‘after effects’. The welts and bruising this particular Bondara offering created were pretty spectacular and lasted roughly a week on me. While I personally loved seeing the evidence of our session in the days that followed, I’m aware that others might not find the slow-fading markings quite such a turn-on. Just something to be aware of – particularly if you are planning on revealing your butt and thighs in the swimming pool, the changing room at the gym, etc. 

Thomas
As Lizzie was being a right pain in the arse about when, where and how it would be used, I made her wait a while. (A reminder of who’s on top – in the bedroom, at least!)

When it did use it, it was after an extended warm up to ensure Lizzie was well and truly ready for it. I can’t say enough how important it is to build up to something more severe like a cane – especially if it’s the first time you have used one. Going in cold won’t hit the right balance of pain/pleasure unless you know your partner very, very well and you both agree that the severe approach is something you want.

Lizzie was clearly nervous, so I started really conservatively with lots of checking to make sure she was handling it okay. (She was – and was getting rather heated as well . I limited the caning to three-a-side, which was plenty for an initial session, and I must say the red welts on Lizzie’s bottom, especially where the end of the cane was hitting, were very impressive. (This is why you need to spread the love over both cheeks). Any more, even at the relatively restrained intensity we were playing at, and I think sitting down may have been a real issue.

I didn’t want to let Lizzie off lightly after all the stressing and fussing beforehand, so had some hot wax to hand to finish her off.

A nice set-up to a particularly squirty orgasm.

The verdict?

Lizzie
One thing hasn’t changed. I’m still both excited and frightened by this implement. The cane has some serious, serious power and, if applied incorrectly and/or without thought, could result in a horrible experience. On the flip side, in the hands of someone who is measured, careful, and in tune with the person on the receiving end, I think it has the potential to open up an absolute kaleidoscope of possibilities for those, like me, who enjoy erotic pain.

If you choose to buy this – or any other cane – doing your safety homework is essential before putting it through its paces. (The aptly named Jay Wiseman’s book, SM 101: A Realistic Introduction is an excellent text with solid, practical information about caning and other aspects of S/M. Peter Masters’s BDSM website, too, has a very good overview of caning for beginners.) And if you’re the wielder, make sure you practise your aim and pressure on an inanimate object before going anywhere near real flesh. 

Thomas
I liked it, Lizzie liked it, and it’s an implement that can be used to great effect. Just go easy to start with, practice hitting pillows, etc., first to get your aim right, move the strokes around on the cheeks, and swap sides to help keep the intensity and the welts at a manageable level (unless your partner likes a more extreme workup, of course). And remember to keep a close eye on your other half to make sure that all is well and they’re not getting too stressed.

In summary …

Things we liked:

• The price. Sub-£20.00.
• The diameter. This is a thicker cane and, as such, a great choice for beginners.
• The feel. (Well, actually, it hurts. A lot. But that’s kind of the point!)
• The marks it leaves.

Things we weren’t so keen on:

• The cane ends could be finished better – they’re a bit rough ‘n’ ready.

Tickle your fancy? Click here to buy the Rattan Cane from Bondara.

The post The cane; not just for Victorian schoolmasters appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Title:

I’m such a geek. First thing I did upon hearing about this book? Googled quinacridone. (It’s a red pigment that’s often used in paints, in case you’re wondering.)

Taking it at face value, you’d be forgiven for thinking that the title, Safeword: Quinacridone seems kind of random – light-hearted and playful in its obscurity, even – and that you’re in for the standard BDSM erotica romp.

Boy would you be wrong.

This is a tale of two people, Cara and Travis, bringing together their respective kinks – objectification and sadism – and, at the same time, creating a functional, romantic relationship.

When we first meet her, Cara, a budding artist, is still very much coming to terms with her wants and desires. Her sexual trajectory has been troubled and she is decidedly unsettled by her initial encounters with the reclusive and contradictory Travis, whom she is inexplicably drawn to. He, on the other hand, is very much in tune with himself – and his need to hurt – but wary of unleashing the monster within on Cara and crossing the line. The couple’s steps first steps towards one another are tentative and awkward (although they’re both full-grown adults, at times I felt like I was watching two teenagers muddle through the beginnings of a sexual awakening) but, gradually, their rapport blossoms into something very intuitive and unique.

I knew going in that Safeword: Quinacridone was going to be intense, having previously read another of Candace Blevins’s Safeword books (Safeword: Rainbow), but this latest entry to the series stepped things up to a whole new level. Really, the only word that I can think of to describe some of the content in this novel is ‘extreme’. Cara’s objectification fantasies, in particular, sometimes push the edges of the envelope.

Interestingly, and despite the very intense level of play between Cara and Travis, Safeword: Quinacridone isn’t a story about total power exchange. I haven’t come across very many books lately that show characters in compartmentalised BDSM relationships, or encountered bottoms who aren’t actually subs. (Even though Cara gets off on being objectified and has some submissive tendencies, she can’t really be described as the latter.) She and Travis are able to switch backwards and forwards between ‘vanilla’ and ‘non-vanilla’ with one another and enjoy the ‘best of both worlds’ – something I found to be incredibly refreshing and enjoyable.

Full disclosure, Safeword: Quinacridone did push my comfort levels. Certain scenes and sections? Very, very, hot (I particularly enjoyed the human table scenario and a number of the impact sequences). But the lean towards the edgier end of things brought me up short at times – to the point that if I had been Cara, I would have painted the entire street in red pigment and had a flashing neon sign with the word ‘quinacridone’ installed over my front door. There were also a number of occasions where I found myself repeating the following line from a conversation between Travis and his friend Paul:

“I mean, I know we’re supposed to be okay with other people’s kinks, but…shit.”

Ironically, the discussions that the characters had about stuff that they wouldn’t do or considered ‘too extreme’ for real life, generally disturbed me more than the things that they actually did end up engaging in. The romantic relationship that develops between the protagonists, however, did tend to balance out the heavier stuff. Candace’s writing style is very natural and readable, too (although the ex-editor in me really wants to tell the publisher that they should have done another copyediting pass on the text as I noticed a small handful of errors in the final manuscript.)

If objectification – and I mean objectification with a capital ‘O’ – floats your boat, you won’t want to miss this one. Casual BDSM erotica readers? Just be aware that you’re about to jump into the deep end of the pool. Without floaties.

Reader advisory (taken from directly from Safeword: Quinacridone): This title contains graphic language, consensual BDSM, extreme objectification, bondage, watersports (one scene), chemical play, fisting, temporary body modification with saline injections (one scene), and the use of toys including clamps, canes, plugs, paddles, whips, floggers, and zip-ties.

*Please note that a free copy of Safeword: Quinacridone was supplied by the author in exchange for a fair review.

Tickle your fancy? Click on the following links to buy a copy:

Amazon.co.uk

• Safeword: Quinacridone – Kindle

Amazon.com

• Safeword: Quinacridone – Kindle

The post Safeword: Quinacridone – Candace Blevins appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Title:

I’m not even sure how to begin describing this book, except to say that it is brutal. You pick it up, you’re entering a warzone – both literally and figuratively.

It’s the 80s and the Cold War is still in full swing. The Russians are in Afghanistan. The Brits are there, too. Unofficially. An August night in Kabul and an SAS solider is raped by a member of the Red Army. This single violent and awful act sets in motion a story of revenge, friendship and love between two men that spans, in this particular instalment of Voinov’s Special Forces saga, nearly a decade.

Special Forces: Soldiers came to my attention through the BDSM Buddy Read feature on Goodreads. From the comments of those who had already started it, I knew it was going to be full-on but I have to admit I was totally unprepared for the level of intensity I encountered. Just a few pages in and I was at once shocked, appalled, and totally hooked, as evidenced by my Soldiers Buddy Read ‘in progress’ status update:

‘Holy sh*t! On page 28 and jaw is already on the ground. Totally shocking (easily the most intense thing I’ve read this year) but very, very well written. *Takes deep breath and dives back in*’

There is so much going on in this book that it’s virtually impossible to sort through all my thoughts and assemble them in a way that makes any sort of sense – not least because Special Forces: Soldiers clocks in at a whopping 650 pages and spans such a lengthy period of time. When you boil it right down, however, this is a book about anger, denial, lust, respect, understanding and, eventually, love between two men who have everything against them.

I wanted to hate Vadim for what he did to Dan – and I managed to at first. But then a whole lot of stuff happened that completely screwed with my head and dislodged me from a position I thought I would hold resolutely. Basically, I was outflanked by Aleksandr Voinov’s clever writing and characterisation. From the minute you start reading Soldiers you’re under siege and the outcomes of your various turbulent engagements with both Vadim and Dan aren’t always easy to call.

Interestingly, even though this book was part of the BDSM Buddy Read feature, I’m not sure that I would classify it as a BDSM tale in the traditional sense. While there is undoubtedly a power exchange dynamic going on between Dan and Vadim – and certainly elements of edge play (knives in particular) – the context is never formal. To me, Soldiers is more an exploration of how these two tough, independent men relate to one another – and it just so happens that the way they do includes elements of D/s and S/M.

Remarkably, this mammoth story is free to download from Aleksandr Voinov’s website. Yes, you heard me correctly. Six-hundred-plus pages of military man-on-man love for nary a bean. But I really need to say this loudly and clearly: Special Forces: Soldiers is absolutely not for those of a squeamish disposition. It features an explicit rape, torture scenes and graphic, graphic instances of violence (some sexual) and warfare that some readers may find disturbing. The counterbalance is that the writing is outstanding (although keep in mind this is a self-published work and there are some punctuation issues, typos, etc.).

I dare you not to be crossing everything for Dan and Vadim by the end of this book – and rushing off to read the next instalment in the Special Forces series. This is an m/m love story that will knock your socks off.

Tickle your fancy? Click here to obtain a copy of Special Forces: Soldiers from Aleksandr Voinov’s website.

The post Special Forces: Soldiers (Director’s Cut) – Aleksandr Voinov appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Title:

Mary Shelley meets Grey’s Anatomy meets Torture Garden.

‘Let’s experiment’ is the tagline for FrankenDom and flippin’ heck does it ever. Reading this book was the literary equivalent of walking into Heston Blumenthal’s Michelin-starred The Fat Duck, ordering the snail porridge and, after a tentative taste, scraping the bowl clean with enough enthusiasm to chip the porcelain.

FrankenDom is by far and away one of the most original and engaging BDSM books I’ve read this year; the plot is awesomely wacky, the characters original, and the D/s relationships in play both unusual and captivating. A medical drama on crack and filmed in a Rocky Horror Show-esque dungeon, if you will. (Or more, accurately, castle Bangenschloss in Montavena.)

I’m not really sure I can give a non-spoilery plot synopsis for this book – not one that will make much sense, anyway – but I’ll do my best.

Rachel McBride, a talented vascular surgeon whose career is on the rise, is confronted with a very tempting offer. The chance to work on a highly confidential project with her ex-lover, Doctor Colin Carter, and his boss, the brilliant and charismatic Julian Kilmartin, who many view as a medical visionary. Professionally, she knows she’d be crazy to pass the mysterious opportunity up, despite a sixth sense telling her there’s some sort of catch. Personally? Let’s just say that being attracted to the two men she’d be working beneath doesn’t make her decision to participate any less complicated.

“From a professional standpoint, I’d have to be insane to pass up such an offer—I knew I has the diagnostic instincts, the surgical skills and the competitive drive to play with the big boys, and this project could be history in the making.
But from a personal standpoint, I was hopelessly outclassed and likely to make a complete fool of myself.
I’d have to be insane to accept.”

Sometimes a little insanity is a good thing and in the case of FrankenDom, it’s a bloody excellent. If you’re not wriggling around like you’re on the slab yourself whilst reading this … well. I’m not normally turned on by electrical play in BDSM fiction but I must admit, even I started eyeing up the electrical sockets in the house after reading this book. And there’s a, uh, rather well done medical scene in this novel that I think is fair to say would not likely be covered by any sort of standard health insurance. I dare you not to laugh out loud at Julian’s playbook folder-naming conventions, too – well, Rachel’s folder anyway.

Joking aside, for all its quirkiness, FrankenDom isn’t a comedy. It actually asks some pretty heavy ethical questions of both the characters and the reader. Further, the relationships it portrays – and, yes, there is more than one at the heart of this book – are not necessarily conventional. I was actually quite surprised by the dynamic that settled into place at the end of the story. (For me, the most climactic part of FrankenDom was actually in the middle, rather than at the close.)

My favourite FrankenDom moment ? Julian’s treatise on erotic pain:

“Think of your pain tolerances rather like the strings on your guitar. Each has its own perfect pitch in a given moment, but they tend to go flat between uses and you have tune them every time you play.”
.
.
.
“That magical line, where the pain is most intensely pleasurable, is the perfect pitch I’ll strive for each time we play.”

There is irresistible urge when reading FrankenDom to contrast it with Mary Shelley’s original gothic novel, to try and work out who slots in where, even though I’m not sure that we (as readers) are actually meant to. Jordan, I think I can place quite easily (!) but Julian feels like some sort of Victor Frankenstein/Lord Byron hybrid; Colin, perhaps, a melding of both Captain Walton and Percy Bysshe Shelley. Rachel? I want to say Mary herself.

One final note. This is a self-published work and a very well written one at that. However, there are some typos in the text. My personal view? The story is strong enough to make them seem like irritations rather than major annoyances.

Tickle your fancy? Click on the following links to purchase a copy.

Amazon.co.uk:

• FrankenDom - Kindle

Amazon.com:

The post FrankenDom – Robin L. Rotham appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Title:

If you have a penchant for non-con (non-consent) role-play, a man with a dirty mouth, and rough-and-ready sex, you’re going to love this one. Willing Victim is all about indulging those slightly darker and more aggressive fantasies that many of us have but are often afraid to admit to.

First thing’s first. If you’re at all sensitive to reading about rape – in either a real or imagined capacity – then this is definitely not the book for you. (Note my over-zealous use of bold and italics here.) Per Willing Victim’s Reader Advisory warning:

‘Although all sex acts are 100-percent consensual, Willing Victim contains role-playing scenarios that may upset some readers who are sensitive about rape, even in a simulated capacity.’

Still here? Good. Then on with the review …

Laurel’s not really sure what she’s doing with her life. Despite being a qualified engineer, she’s simply drifting from one day to the next, making ends meet by waitressing. Then one day, quite by chance, she meets Flynn, a native Bostonian who works construction. There’s just something about this hulk of a man that draws Laurel and she finds herself doing something completely out of character: asking him out. Initially, he refuses her offer, but Laurel refuses to take ‘no’ for an answer and, eventually, Flynn capitulates – after a fashion:

‘He scribbled an address in South Boston.
“Friday and Saturday nights, eight to one. Tell the guy working that Flynn invited you.”
Laurel studied his slanted handwriting. “Okay,” she said, wondering if all this newfound impulsivity would leave her by the weekend.
“If that doesn’t scare you off,” he said, “ you can try askin’ me out again.”’

What Laurel discovers when she turns up both surprises and intrigues her: Flynn’s a fighter, a stalwart of the underground boxing circuit. But that’s not all. Courtesy of a woman named Pam who has a casual sexual arrangement with him, she learns that the ring isn’t the only place Flynn likes to channel his aggression:

‘“… Flynn’s just willing to go place with me that other guys won’t. Sort of rough places. Well, really rough places.”
.
.
.
“He’s a bit of a thug,” she added with a fond smile.
“In and out of bed, it sounds like,” Laurel said. Not that it was necessarily a criticism.
Pam shrugged again. “What I told you about him sexually…don’t jump to condemn him or anything. He’s actually really kind.”

And that’s the crux of this book. Fabulously dirty, aggressive sex with a real rough diamond who’s not afraid to play in very dark places – provided (and this is important) it’s what his partner wants. Is Flynn hard on those he has sex with (or, more accurately, ‘fucks’)? Oh, yes. Is he violent towards them? No. That’s not what Willing Victim’s about. The clue is in the title: this isn’t a story of abuse.

I’ve seen some reviewers describe this as a BDSM book but, in my opinion, it isn’t. Although there’s unquestionably a power exchange between Laurel and Flynn – and they have a safeword in place – Willing Victim is much more about non-consent role-play. Bluntly, ‘being forced’ in a controlled and pre-negotiated environment.

Characterisation-wise, Cara McKenna does a great job with both protagonists. Laurel is suitably cautious about what she’s stepping into and Flynn’s clearly in tune with his partners’ needs and limits. He’s not a blunt instrument, either. The flip-side of him is his kindness – because although Flynn describes himself as an ‘asshole’ to Laurel at the beginning of Willing Victim, it soon becomes very clear that he’s not.

Finally, a word on Flynn’s language. As I mentioned in the very first sentence, it’s dirty (the ‘c word’ abounds) – but well done. If filth is going to come out of a man’s mouth during sex, this is the kind you want. To that end, I’m pretty positive you’ll be fanning yourself and/or jumping on your partner rather than cringing.

Tickle your fancy? Click on the below links to purchase a copy.

Amazon.co.uk:

• Willing Victim – Kindle

Amazon.com:

• Willing Victim – Kindle

The post Willing Victim – Cara McKenna appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Image: Ivje, Godvisna (own work)

So, the days are getting colder and the chill is starting to set in. Need to warm up quickly? I have just the thing …

Frostbite is an erotic short story I penned a few weeks ago following a fabulous (sedate!) walk in the English countryside: A woman, walking by herself on a desolate, frosty footpath, is taken by surprise when a man steps from the trees in front of her. They’re alone, it’s bitterly cold, and night is falling. It sounds like the beginning of a nightmare – but is it?

I really enjoyed writing Frostbite and it seems now’s the time to post it, given that winter’s bearing down on us with a vengeance.

If I get the time – and provided they’re popular enough – I’ll try and write more of these ‘five minute’ shorts going forwards.

IMPORTANT: Please note that this story is a work of fiction and contains explicit sexual content and elements of dubious consent. If such material offends you or you are under the age of 18, please don’t read any further.

FROSTBITE

In the fading winter light it’s impossible to see him standing beneath the trees. It isn’t until he steps from the froth of dried bracken at the side of the footpath, coming to a stop mere feet in front of me, that I realise he is there. The shot of adrenalin that courses through me as I freeze, mid-step, feels more like a bolt of electricity and the hairs on the back of my neck come to attention as if court-marshalled.

I stare at him, my mouth slightly parted, a breath away from a scream.

He looks back at me – and I can’t help but think it’s in much the same way that a lion contemplates a foolish, stray gazelle.

With an effort, I break his gaze and look frantically behind me. There is no one but us on this lonely track; the frozen path I have just walked, a mess of frosty grass and cold mud, stretches empty across a desolate field before disappearing into a tall stand of distant oaks.

We are quite alone.

And as I turn my head back towards him, he pounces. Moves so quickly I don’t have time to process it. One leather-clad hand is like a vice around my arm, the other a dead weight against my shoulder, pushing me to my knees on the hard ground. I hear the frosted grass crackle as my legs make contact and feel the almost immediate seep of cold through the wool of my tights. The hand on my arm shifts to my head, pulls off my wool hat and grasps my hair. I arch my neck backwards, trying to relieve the strain but he simply pulls harder and I start to lose my balance. Involuntarily, my hands come up and I grip his denim-encased thighs in an effort to steady myself.

In the dim grey light, I can see the corners of his mouth curve upwards in a hard smile.

The way he is gripping my hair, I can’t look down but I hear the metallic clink of metal and suddenly realise that the hand that’s no longer on my shoulder must be undoing his belt. My thoughts are confirmed when my ears pick up the distinctive sound of a zip being undone in the almost-silent evening. Instinctively, I start to struggle but he merely tightens his fingers until the roots of my dark hair scream for relief. The pain is unwelcome and, almost immediately, I quiet, seeking escape from the punishment.

His grip loosens fractionally but my moment of leniency is short-lived. He steps closer to me and I feel the head of his penis, hot and hard, brush across my cheek and press against my dry lips. A finger taps my jaw in warning and I immediately open my mouth.

He pushes in without any preamble – desperate to get inside or desperate to escape the cold winter air swirling around us, I can’t tell. I have no time to prepare myself, and start to gag as he rams himself to the back of my throat. After a second or two, he backs off slightly, allowing me to swallow and get some sort of grasp on my reflexes before pushing forward again and holding himself deep. I tighten my fingers on his thighs, doing my best to accommodate the not insignificant width of his cock.

The hairs of his groin brush against my nose and, as I desperately suck the frigid air, I catch the lingering scent of soap and musk.

He pulls back until just the head of him remains safe and warm inside my now wet lips. Pauses momentarily. Studies me intently.

And then he is moving again, his cock fucking my mouth in a steady, even rhythm, one hand on my scalp guiding my movements, the other at the back of my neck pulling me closer to him. As he moves in and out, wet sounds squelch from my mouth and saliva trickles down my chin. My eyes begin to water as the intensity of his thrusts increases and twice I nearly lose my balance, but, somehow, I manage to hold myself in place.

I have no idea how long he uses my mouth but, finally, I begin to feel him swell against my tongue and I know he his close to coming. But instead of ejaculating deep in my throat as I expect him to, he pulls out, grips my shoulders and pulls me roughly forwards. I put out my hands to stop myself face-planting and my glove-covered palms hit the ground. Almost immediately, I feel his hands on my hips, turning me around.

My knees scrap across the dirt.

A gust of wind rushes over us and a flurry of ice crystals rise up and sting the skin of my face. There is a rustle and a thud and I sense he has dropped to his knees behind me.

I don’t even think about moving as pushes my denim skirt up around my hips, or when he yanks my tights and knickers down around my thighs with a single vicious pull.

I don’t think about crawling away from him on my hands and knees as I feel a hand rest at the small of my back and the engorged head of his penis plug the entrance of my embarrassingly wet pussy.

The fingers digging into my right hip cause me to buck slightly against him and a sharp slap stings the exposed, rapidly cooling skin of my buttocks.

I freeze.

He remains motionless for a moment, and then grunts – the only sound he has made so far – as he slowly pushes forward into my warm cunt. There is a momentary respite from the increasingly biting wind as his hips come to rest against mine, but it doesn’t last. He begins to stroke lazily in and out, and each time he pulls back, the Arctic chill rushes in, punishing my bottom and the swollen, spread lips of my vulva.

I have almost become accustomed to the vicious air when he leans forward, drops his weight onto my back, and reaches underneath me. I drop my head to watch as his gloved hands fumble with the zipper of my winter coat. He pulls it towards him, and then his hands are at the hem of my jumper, pushing it and the shirt beneath upwards, over my breasts. As he runs his hands downwards again, his fingertips catch the top edges of my bra and yank the cups so that they come to rest beneath the lower curves of my breasts.

I clench involuntarily around the cock buried deep inside me as the icy cold hits my exposed nipples. They tighten, becoming hard as diamonds and I desperately want to cover them with my hands but, even as the thought registers, I am being pulled upright as he lifts his weight from my back. Gripping my arms, he forces me to straighten and rest my weight on my dirty walking boots before capturing both wrists in one hand at the small of my back. As I kneel between his thighs, impaled on his cock, he reaches around and gently squeezes the tip of one frozen nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

I bite my lip to stop myself from crying out, even though I know there is no one to hear me.

He begins to move his hips, pushing upwards with his cock in short, sharp jabs. As the pace picks up, he starts twisting my nipple more sharply – and this time I cannot help but lift my face and groan at the darkening sky.

The bare branches of the trees dance like black skeletons over my head and, as I watch them, I see a single, fat snowflake flutter downwards like a white angel. It swirls away into the gathering night but, almost immediately, there is another to take its place. And another. And another.

They land all around us. On the dirt. The grass. The bare flesh of my breasts.

I am being pushed forwards again, back onto my hands and knees, and now the snow falls softly against the skin of my bottom. Almost as soon as it makes contact, it melts, sending little threads of liquid dribbling downwards. As I try to acclimatise to the sensation, a bare, wet thumb skates over the tight pucker of my anus and I hold my breath, the freezing stings of the flakes momentarily forgotten. It pushes gently yet ruthlessly inwards, overcoming the tight resistance it encounters with shocking ease.

I force myself to relax.

It slides in further.

Before I know it, the gloveless digit is stabbing in and out of me and I am pushing back on its meagre width with shameless abandon. From out of nowhere, the beginning of an orgasm starts to whisper through me and I strain towards it, desperate to send myself over the edge. But before I can climax, the hips behind me give three hard, measured thrusts and the cock inside my pussy swells to monstrous proportions. At the end of the third, deep stab I feel a rush of warmth, and then it slides backwards, pulling fully out, leaving me gaping and open to the cold.

A trickle of the seed that has just been deposited inside me runs from my desperate, empty, well just as I feel the thumb retreat from my anus and hot splashes of come fall like acid rain on its spasming mouth. Moments later, however, the thumb returns to massage and push the rapidly cooling ejaculate into the still-hungry pucker.

I groan and pant, the elusive orgasm hovering like a dark abyss before me, but before it can detonate, he stops touching me completely and I hear him getting to his feet.

I cannot bring myself to look at him.

I remain on my hands and knees, half undressed, sperm trickling down my thighs; a shivering vessel of need.

My ears pick up the sound of him fastening his pants, and then his footsteps crunching across the ground. All too soon, they fade into the distance.

The seconds tick by but I cannot seem to make myself move. Eventually, though, the pain of my freezing nipples and the exposed skin of my buttocks spur me into action. I stand, and as I do, feel more dribbles leak from my cunt.

I re-adjust my shirt, jumper and coat before trying to sort out my lower half. As I pull my knickers up, I feel them cling to the damp patches on my inner thighs and groin and know that I will be walking home in a sea of stickiness. My tights are no better; they’re caked in wet dirt and the left knee now sports a ragged hole. My hat is nowhere to be seen.

I look around. The night is now in full bloom around me and it’s no longer snowing; a silvery moon and a mass of brilliant stars hang in the inky sky, illuminating the light blanket of white on the grass and bushes.

On shaky legs, I start off once again down the track, following the single set of footprints imprinted upon it. A mile later, I reach the country lane the leads to my house and follow its hard surface until I reach the porch light that marks my front door. Key in hand, I insert it into the lock and let myself in.

A wall of warmth hits me and I briefly close my eyes, savouring the welcome heat. After removing my boots and hanging up my coat on one of the hooks by the stairs, I make my way into the kitchen. My husband is sitting at the table, a book in his hand, a cup of steaming tea at his side. He looks up as I enter the room and takes in my dishevelled appearance: the wild hair, the dirt, the tear at my knee.

‘How was your walk?’ he says.

I hesitate. ‘It was … interesting.’

‘Interesting?’ He quirks an eyebrow.

I nod, not sure what else to say.

He puts his book down and pushes his chair back so that his legs are free from the table. ‘Come here.’

I walk over to him and as soon as I’m close enough, he grabs me and pulls me down, face-first, over his lap. His hands go straight to the hem of my skirt. He lifts it up and pulls the waistband of my tights and knickers beneath the curve of my bottom before plunging his fingers into my sopping cunt.

‘That feels more than interesting to me.’

I groan and squirm, unable to formulate any coherent words.

He spreads the slickness over my engorged clit and I bury my face against his calf, noting the still-drying mud on the knees of his trousers. His hand drifts backwards and I feel a finger circle my anus.

‘Please,’ I wail.

He chuckles and plunges it in to the knuckle.

‘You just want your orgasm, greedy girl.’

I tighten around his unmoving finger, desperate for friction.

He pulls it out slightly, pushes it back in with more force, and leans forward so his lips are close to my left ear.

‘Sorry I ruined your tights, babe.’

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What we used: Mawa Klamps
From: UberKinky
Price: £2.99 per clamp (discounts available for multibuys)
Material(s): metal (unspecified), rubber (unspecified)

If you’re serious about your nipple play, then these sprung Mawa Klamps may be just the thing. As Lizzie and Thomas discover, they’re certainly not for the faint of heart – and they’re not just for the top half of the body …

First thoughts …

Lizzie
If you’ve been following Chintz for a while, you’ll know that Thomas and I recently reviewed a set of Japanese clover nipple clamps and that I’m a big, big fan of them (and clamping in general). So when UberKinky asked if we’d like to review their Mawa Klamps, I was pretty keen. However, when I put these little beasts on the tips of my fingers after extracting them from their wrappings and felt how strong they were, I started to get a bit nervous!

Thomas
I am sure I have seen these used on a clipboard, without the rubber pads on the ends. My only issue with this style of clamp (and also clover nipple clamps) is there is no facility to adjust the pressure.

The packaging …

Lizzie
Very utilitarian. The clamps are individually encased in clear plastic. In other words, there’s no official branding.

The construction …

Lizzie
These Mawa Klamps look virtually identical to the bulldog clips you would buy from your local stationary supplier but with one important difference: the ‘gripping’ edges are coated in a soft, black rubber. (It stands to reason you don’t want two sharp metal edges coming together under pressure on the soft skin of a nipple – or other body part.) The ‘force factor’ for each device is created by the spring that connects the two halves of the clamp – and believe me, there is some serious, serious wellie in that coil. Size-wise, the clamps are bigger than a standard screw clamp or tweezer clamp in both length and width (5.5 centimetres and 2.0 centimetres respectively) but they are smaller than most clovers.

I did notice that the clamps we were sent didn’t have the indented weight handles that appear in the UberKinky Mawa Klamps photographs and product description, but this may be because the ones we tested were review samples.

Thomas
They look a bit like office stationary items, which, to be fair, is what you would expect for the price. They are quite strong and of course non-adjustable so I suspect there will be a ‘love-em or hate-em’ response for most people with this item. The construction of the clip and the finish is pretty basic, so make sure you keep them clean and dry as I suspect they may be prone to rusting, etc., if they are allowed to become damp. As Lizzie mentioned, the ones we had were missing the extra hanger bar and I suspect this affected the way ours functioned as their action when squeezed didn’t feel very smooth.

Using them …

Lizzie
After the finger clamping experiment, I was bracing myself for these. I have a pretty decent pain threshold – or at least I think I do – but in a sexual context, I like it to hold hands quite tightly with pleasure. There has to be a balance – and I wasn’t sure whether these were going to tip the scales too far in the direction of ‘it just plain hurts’.

To that end, Thomas made sure that I was well and truly warmed up before coming at me with the Mawas – I’d had two orgasms, so was nicely aroused and at the same time relaxed – and he used his mouth and teeth to make sure that my nipples were erect enough to cope with the pressure of them. (As I mentioned in my last nipple clamp review, don’t try and clamp nipples when they’re in a ‘soft’ state; it’s really important that you and/or your partner ensure that they’re hard before any hardware comes at them. An erect nipple can take a lot more stimulation and it also means more blood will be trapped when a clamp is applied – which equals a more intense sensation when they’re removed.)

The feeling? Full-on. But, interestingly, I didn’t find the Mawa Klamps much more difficult to cope with than clovers, because while they generate a lot of pressure, the clamping edge is relatively broad – and that means that the force they apply is spread over a larger surface area. Thomas didn’t leave the clamps on my nipples for an extended period first time, though (he’d put them on his fingers, too, and knew how strong they were!) – just long enough to distract me with other activity and make me forget about the ache they induced before he removed them and caused the rush of pleasure/pain that heralds the return of blood flow.

However, Thomas wasn’t finished with me. Moments after removing the Mawa Klamps from my nipples, he headed in the direction of my vulva. And then there was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a scrunching of toes on my part as he attached one to each side of my labia. I’ve not had clamps applied to this area before and, strangely, found the sensation to be neither here nor there. Yes, their presence was uncomfortable, but this part of my anatomy seems to be less sensitive than my nipples. Consequently, the discomfort was over-ridden by other feelings as Thomas moved on to other things. The removal of the clamps was more a relief than anything else; I didn’t experience the same achy rush I got when they were taken from my nipples.

Thomas
These little clips work well and are easy to use. They were secure when in place (despite not having small dimpled gripper pads of our Japanese clover clamps), which was good as I had visions of them slipping off and shooting across the room like small bullets. If you and your other half are using these for the first time, I would advise a slow application and thus a gradual increase in pressure to make sure your partner is not going to suddenly leap up and run round the room screaming ‘take them off, take them off NOW!!!’.

When using them a good warm up is a must; everything needs to be engorged, shall we say. You need to make sure you have a ‘taking them off’ plan, too, as leaving them on for too long can cause damage. If you do plan to use them on other areas (lips, labia, other wobbly bits), use your common sense and do your research before you start attaching them.

The verdict?

Lizzie
If you enjoy nipple play and crave intensity, these Mawa Klamps will likely to be right up your alley. They’re easy to apply and their design means they can used on various parts of the body. However, I would definitely not recommend them to beginners. These are something you want to build up to.

Thomas
Nice little low-cost clamps. Make sure they come with the hanger bar and that you keep them clean and dry when they’re not in use.

In summary …

Things we liked …

• The price. Very inexpensive.
• The size. These clamps are compact and don’t overwhelm the area they’re applied to.
• The versatility. Can be attached to things other than nipples.

Things we weren’t so keen on …

• The lack of instructions. The Mawa Klamps don’t come with any guidance as to use.
• They’re very utilitarian. (Although please note that this isn’t a major negative and more a reflection of our personal taste with regard to the way we like our toys to look.)
• There’s no detailed information available on the clamp construction materials. Although the components are described as ‘metal’ and ‘rubber’, it’s not clear which ones have been used. As such, those with metal or rubber allergies/sensitivities would be best to choose a product that has been guaranteed as hypoallergenic.

Tickle your fancy? Click here to buy Mawa Klamps from UberKinky.

*Please note that this item was provided free of charge in exchange for a fair review.

Editor’s note: please note that should not use Mawas (or any other type of clamp) without first doing a bit of safety reading as applying clamps incorrectly or for too long can cause tissue damage.

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Title:

A novel of punishment, pleasure and intrigue set against the exotic backdrop of 1920s Singapore, Straits Academy will almost certainly appeal to those with a penchant for sexual discipline. I was really intrigued by this book’s synopsis – I’ve not come across many contemporary erotic novels set in the early twentieth century – and the promise of crops and correction within the context of a colonial girls’ boarding school was too much to resist.

In the first few pages of Straits Academy, we are introduced to our intrepid heroine, Adelaide Hartley (Addy), as her boat makes its way into Singapore harbour; she is excited about meeting her new fiancé, Arthur Fitz-Bowman, after a long-distance courtship and looking forward to the prospect of embarking on a new life in a foreign country. Her joyous anticipation quickly fades, however, in the face of the news that her future husband has been murdered – possibly as a direct result of an opium smuggling investigation he was conducting at the time of his death. Mr Thomas Drake, the man responsible for delivering Adelaide an account of the terrible event, suspects that his murder – and the smuggling – is somehow tied to the beautiful Madame Ong who runs a well-known girls’ boarding school, Straits Academy. A close friend of the deceased, he has been doing his utmost to solve the mystery surrounding his acquaintance’s untimely death. Yet as he speaks with Adelaide (who despite her age of twenty-two years resembles, in stature, a teenage girl) he is struck by a somewhat unconventional idea that results in an even more outlandish proposal: will she consider posing as his niece and attending Straits Academy in an attempt to glean information about Arthur’s murder? To his surprise, Addy  agrees to his suggestion – and thus begins a wonderful tale of raised school dresses, lowered drawers and very pink bottoms.

We’ve all heard of villains we love to hate but, in this instance, Madame Ong is very much the villain you hate to love. Cruel and sensual in equal measure, the reader looks forward to her punishments with the same twisted sense of anticipation that the school girls in her charge do. She is beautiful, measured and capable of just about anything. Adelaide’s interactions with her and her like-minded staff are blisteringly hot and, even with the advantage of a level of maturity, Addy is cannot remain indifferent to the sexually charged correction methods she and the other girls must subject themselves to. It’s the small touches that make Madame Ong so successful, because even though Straits Academy is explicit, the moments that her power is more ‘quiet’, are equally potent and stimulating:

‘Adelaide rose hurriedly and pulled up her drawers, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. As she got the last button through, and her skirt smoothed down, she looked up and noticed the headmistress looking pointedly at the bench where she had been sitting.
Adelaide spun around to look and turned beet red. There was a dark spot on the wood exactly where she had been sitting. The headmistress caught her eye and gave her a wide smile.
“I think you’ll do very well here at Straits Academy, Adelaide. Very well indeed. Now off to class with you.”’

But as much as I looked forward to Madame Ong, I also loved reading about Mr Drake, the man responsible for thrusting Addy under her nose – or should I say hand. Very much aware of his sexual appetites, watching him as his awareness of Straits Academy’s practices and policies – and its true purpose – grew was wonderful. The scenes in which he disciplines his wayward ‘niece’ are electric (the age-play is very well done), laced with tension, and work as an unusual sort of foreplay for the romance that develops between them. There is an outstanding scene involving him spanking Adelaide under the eye of a school chaperone that almost had me sticking my head in the fridge and another involving a mirror and chair that had a very similar effect.

‘Drake raised his hand, and held it above her for a second, savouring the sight of her bare bottom and the feel of her across his legs. Having Miss Connor’s eager eyes on them was a potent spice.
He brought his hand down, hard enough to make a good sound and raise a pink splotch on her bottom. She made a little cry, but kept her hands and feet in place.’

There are some editing errors in Straits Academy (minor typos and inconsistences ) but I was lucky enough to be able to read an advance copy of the text so these could very well be absent from the final version (and in any case, the story and the writing were strong enough that I was able to move past them without feeling they’d substantially detracted from the book). I will also admit that I was a little disappointed by what I felt was the story’s somewhat quick end; the Straits Academy plot unfolded at a steady pace for the first twenty seven chapters but its resolution seemed, to me, to be a little hurried, which was a shame. I was really hoping to see more of Madame Ong, her staff and the mysterious Tan Yue Sheng in the concluding stages. Perhaps Alice Liddell is teasing us, however, and we will see more of the fates of these characters in a future book. Let’s hope so.

A Town Like Alice meets Delta of Venus. Exotic, hot and very sexy.

*Please note that Straits Academy was provided free of charge by the author in exchange for a fair review.

Tickle your fancy? Click on the following links to buy Straits Academy from Amazon.co.uk (Kindle) and Amazon.com (Kindle).

The post Straits Academy – Alice Liddell appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

The Wartenberg pinwheel, while originally invented as a medical device for neurological use has become something of a BDSM staple over the years. So what does one feel like? Should you be afraid of those rather sharp looking spikes? Lizzie and Thomas find out.

First thoughts …

Lizzie
I’ve wanted to try a Wartenberg pinwheel for ages but, for various reasons, Thomas and I just never seemed to get around to purchasing one. As you’ve probably gathered from my previous toy reviews, I’m not averse to a bit of pain during sex but, on balance, my experience runs to impact and pressure toys (such as floggers, paddles and clamps), so anything sharp has the power to make me shiver a little.

This device takes its name from American neurologist, Robert Wartenberg, who designed it to test nerve reactions (sensitivity) in patients, but, per Jane’s introduction to this post, the wheel has become quite popular with those who enjoy BDSM. There are a few different Wartenberg designs out there but, in essence, they’re pretty much identical from a form and function perspective. You’re basically dealing with a wheel of sharp, metal spikes (attached to a handle) that rotates when it’s run over the skin.

Thomas
It looks like a cross between a medieval torture device and some kind of dentist’s tool. I keep having flashbacks Laurence Olivier in Marathon Man. It is surprising sharp – don’t drop it on you foot – but it is stainless steel, so can be hygienically cleaned. (That said, as it’s possible for this toy to break the skin, I would suggest it only be used on one person or be shared by monogamous couples.)

NB: I’m curious as to how effective the Wartenberg is for measuring nerve damage in a patient; in my experience, if you poke someone with something as sharp as this, you’re going to get a reaction. Possibly a black eye. Just saying.

The packaging …

Lizzie
Very simple. The Wartenberg pinwheel we ordered from Bondara arrived in a slim, plastic pouch, one side of which is see-through. No visible branding but it’s not a big or complicated toy (the pinwheel is only 7 inches in length) so it doesn’t really need anything fancy.

Using it …

Lizzie
As soon as the Wartenberg arrived, I got it out of the packet and started prodding the spikes with my fingers – there are 20 on the wheel in total – to see just how sharp they were. (Very, as it turns out.) I then ran it experimentally over the insides of my arms, at first lightly and then with a little more force. While I didn’t yelp at the feelings it generated, the pinwheel definitely had some bite; it left imprints on the skin when I applied it with what I would call an ‘average’ pressure and as it tracked across my arm, a prickling sensation lingered for a short time in its wake.

Our first ‘proper’ use of the Wartenberg wheel took place a day or so after its arrival. Thomas decided to use it on me as part of a sensation play session, combining the prickle of the Wartenberg with the much softer touch of an ostrich feather we keep in our toy box. In addition, he blindfolded me so that I was unable to tell which implement I’d be experiencing ahead of time. Needless to say, after being stroked with something very light and silky, the spikes of the Wartenberg wheel came as a massive shock, despite the fact that I knew Thomas was going to use it on me. There was much gripping of sheets (and maybe a stifled cry or two) as the wheel made its way over my back and bottom. Because even though I knew from playing with it myself that Thomas would have to press relatively firmly to break my skin, it felt like the spikes were going to do so at any moment. On more tender areas – the crease between the buttocks, for example – and skin sensitised through impact play (in addition to the ostrich feather, Thomas introduced our crop partway through our session), the Wartenberg’s power increased exponentially.

Bluntly, this is an evil, evil little toy – and I don’t mean that as a criticism. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I was really shocked by how much power such a small thing had over me. The sensations the Wartenberg pinwheel generated were incredibly intense and the threat of it breaking the skin felt very real when it was being run over me.

Thomas
I wasn’t too sure how to approach this one – as Lizzie mentioned, sharp toys are new for us – so I figured a mix of surprise and soft/hard would be the way to go.

Using the pinwheel certainly got quite a reaction from Lizzie (kinky tart), especially when mixed in with soft stroking and some spanking/cropping to sensitize the skin. Only light pressure is needed, unless of course you’re into more serious edge play, and you need to be careful where you use it (very sensitive areas need to be built up to). I found the best way was to run it around very slowly over well-spanked areas, but I am sure it will work well used anywhere your partner is sensitive.

The verdict? 

Lizzie
I actually find it quite hard to articulate my feelings about this particular toy as the sensations it generates are so unique. It plays a head-game with you because, mentally, you register its sharpness as a significant threat. And that’s its appeal; it has teeth (literally) and requires you to have total trust in your partner. A really great D/s toy that I would say is a toy box essential for those who enjoy sensation play. I like it a lot – but I’m also a bit scared of it!

Thomas
All I can say is I haven’t heard Lizzie moan like that in a while. It generated a remarkable level of moisture – which, obviously, told me that she found the effects of the Wartenberg pinwheel a real turn-on. A great toy for something so simple but I would use sparingly to keep it exciting.

In summary …

Things we liked:

• The sensation it generates. The prickling feeling as the pinwheel moves over the skin is very unusual.
• The size. A nice, small toy that can be stored easily.
• The reactions it induces. It’s very hard to be indifferent to those spikes!
• The mental stimulation the device induces. The Wartenberg pinwheel requires a level of trust between those using it. A great toy to bond with, especially if you enjoy D/s.

Things we weren’t so keen on:

• Could be very hard to explain at an airport customs (being metal and all).

Tickle you fancy? Click here to buy the Wartenberg wheel from Bondara.

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