I’ve written before about my rainwear fetish that is intrinsically linked to my corporal punishment fetish.
I can’t seem to stop myself from adding to my collection when it comes to shiny raincoats. I recently bought another new one on e-bay. It is a ladies mackintosh in heavy black, shiny vinyl that has a mirror sheen to it and a wonderful rustle at the slightest movement.
I do love the word mackintosh. It’s so more evocative than the word raincoat. Mackintosh has a shine to it. Raincoat can be a matt finish Burberry. Expensive but absolutely no appeal.
I’m wearing it now, as I type this, and I all I can hear above the gentle tap, tap of keys is a lovely creaking sound. As I look down, pools of light glisten on the folds of smooth fabric. The room is filled with the aroma of polished plastic. It is all rather enjoyable.
I wanted a shortie mack to replace my first-ever pvc rain jacket I bought from a charity shop. I’ve been wearing it around the house for years – it’s lined so it’s perfect in winter with nothing else but a pair of plastic pants - but the coat seams have started to fall apart. So when I saw this latest mack, I had to have it.
As I said, it’s a ladies mackintosh, double breasted with three rows of buttons and has a tie belt. It’s longer than my old jacket – longer at the front but quite short at the back so it ends just where my bottom cheeks meet the top of my thighs. With it buttoned up, collar turned up and all tightly belted, it feels really tarty and I said to Mistress, all it needs is some stockings, patent high heeled boots and some bright red lipstick to complete the image.
I know in a recent post I said I don’t fantasise but Mistress and I discussed what the consequences might be of me dressing like this in a female-dominated society where the peacekeeper uniform incorporated a patent black trenchcoat and matching knee boots.
Mistress laughed at the suggestion: “Impersonating an officer? It would be regarded as a heinous crime An insult to women. You would pay dearly.”
Neither of us could imagine any female-led society wasting money on jail sentences for errant males unless absolutely necessary so we thought the only see one recourse for such a crime being a public thrashing in the town market place.
Mistress and I both toyed with the idea of such public thrashings, picturing burly louts being reduces to tears on the A-frame that had become a feature in every town and village with the advent of a new all female-led society. We pondered how society might become a better place with women in control but then Mistress looked at me and said: “By the way, I don’t remember giving you permission to purchase that raincoat.