•    olfactophilia â€“ Latin olfacto, to smell, pertaining to the sense of smell, and Greek philia, "love"

    •    osmolagnia â€“ Greek osme, "smell", and lagneia, "lust"

The smell of freshly cut grass… the rain hitting concrete on a summer’s day… chocolate chip cookies still warm from the oven… bacon… the scent of a woman’s newly washed hair as she brushes past you in the street… lavender oil drizzled into a hot bath… lilies tickling against your nostrils as you lean in to inhale… eucalyptus oil evaporating from the depths of the steam room… 

And then there’s the more kink-specific smells such as the leather collar your Mistress buckles around your neck, or her leather gloves that muzzle you, or perhaps it’s the spice of ginger root as it’s skinned for a figging, or the musk/acidic/buttery odour of a golden shower, sluice gates opened.  

Scent play is primal. 

Our sense of smell taps into the subconscious aspect of human sexual attraction, it is wired directly into the most primitive part of our brains and it produces some of our strongest associations. For scent fetishists, to inhale is to become a wild animal seeking their Alpha; her scent intoxicates.

As someone who moonlights as a gym rat my laundry basket is an olfactophiliac’s wet dream. If armpits are dense with hormone receptors secreting all kinds of lovely chemicals, think of my gym clothes as armpits on steroids.

My most recent olfactophiliac enjoyed having my panties, soaked through with sweat and hard work, dangled inches from his face as I commanded him to inhale deeply. I draped damp athletic-wear that normally hugs my lithe, toned body across his lips and nose, watching him become giddy with the headiness of it. As the plastic bag was fitted over his head I thought how much that suffocation infused with 3 day-old perspiration was like a recent culinary experience I had where a bowl of mussels steamed over a bed of pine needles was served. The cloche was lifted, smokey pine permeated the air, and I found myself inside the dish. 

I sweat hard, on the regular. If that makes your knees quiver and your mind swell with submission, I invite you to join me in the place where things get wild.  



Here you will find snippets of reflections on BDSM, post-structuralist ruminations, outlandish role play scripts that have actually been enacted, product (toy) reviews and reflections, post-session poetics and the occasional testimonial.