For as long as I can remember, I’ve worn my nails long and polished (almost always blood red). The first compliment J ever paid me was about my perfectly painted fingers and toes. Since he’s not a particularly visual person, nor often specific about such things, the compliment stuck with me.
When we first started dating and dabbling in BDSM and D/s, my long red fingernails became a surprisingly important part of our play. Long nails are good for leaving scratches and raising welts, for sinking into tender flesh, for pinching and twisting, and for stroking ever-so-lightly to take all of that pain away. Nails are surprisingly useful for manipulating a person’s mouth — for tugging on lips, scratching the insides of cheeks, and a personal favorite, for seizing a tongue, pulling it out as far as it will go, and for clamping it down and holding it until I’m ready to release it.
Long nails are conveniently functional, but I also enjoy the aesthetic contribution they provide. I adore the look of my glossy red nails against his skin, the way they disappear between his puffy pink lips when I fuck his mouth with my hand, the neat little rows of red half-moons they leave when I release his flesh. Besides all of that, long red nails are just so deliciously dramatic and so stereotypically “Domme.”
While I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a kink or a fetish (for me), in a way, I guess I’ve come to fetishize my own fingernails. They aren’t sexual per se, but I certainly associate them with sex.
Even if sex and play weren’t factors, there are other reasons I keep my nails long. I hate the way short nails look on me, and more importantly, I hate they way they feel. Clipping them short makes my fingertips almost painfully sensitive and makes my hands feel awkward and clumsy.
For that reason, for a long time, I wore gloves when I fucked J. I took all the precautions necessary not to damage him, and thankfully, I never hurt him in a way I didn’t intend. But as I experimented on the boy and learned more about prostate play, milking, and hands-free “involuntary” orgasms, I realized the gloves might be an impediment.
So… I clipped them short, filed them smooth, and fucked him barehanded for the first time. It was intense for both of us, not just for the intimacy of skin-to-skin contact, but for the additional sensitivity bare hands and short nails enabled. I was more adept at reading his body and far more effective at manipulating him to get the responses I wanted.
Since that first time, seeing my nails filed short has become a sort of trigger for J. It doesn’t make him any more submissive, but it definitely makes him more slutty (which can encourage his submissiveness in an indirect way). When he sees my nails short and unpolished, he knows I intend to fuck him, and that knowledge renders him a whimpering, desperate mess.
My short nails have even made their way into a few of his fantasies (he’s required to write out particularly hot or interesting ones). One recent fantasy involved J listening to me clip my nails while he was bound and hooded. Another was about worshipping my pussy while I lounged on the bed filing down my nails.
I love that it turns him on and I love fucking him… but I hate having short nails. I hate it so much that sometimes I wonder if it’s worth dealing with the two (or more) weeks of ugly, clumsy hands and painfully sensitive fingertips for just an hour or two of boyfucking. If I had the opportunity to fuck him more often, it might feel like a more equitable tradeoff.
Of course, I still cut them down when I know I’m going to see him. It’s just that each time I clip and file my nails down to nubs, I find myself just a tiny bit more annoyed with the ritual than I was the time before…