GUSTO: BitchSlap by Elizabeth F. Stewart: The gloves are off.

Heavy, silver-studded black leather covers my nose and I take in a deep draught of my Mr. X. As I kissed him goodbye just a moment ago, his scent is still achingly fresh. After nearly nine years of wear, his supple collar is imbued with his essence -- natural scent mingled inextricably with his favorite subtle, elegant fragrance. While he's here I luxuriate in that scent on his clothing and over the surface of his body, which I've explored with my nose and tongue -- salty and sweet, fresh and funky. When he's gone, I revel in pangs of exquisite yearning, alternately quelled and provoked by indulging in his aroma on that collar, the bed linens, my lingerie. Reluctantly, I will place the collar in a plastic zip-lock bag to seal in the freshness. I will place the bag in the toy chest like a stash, so when I am in withdrawal, there will remain a primo hit of X.

The Bitch will also admit to intoxication over the smell of superior leather goods. Yes, perhaps she does dabble her freshly-scrubbed, lavender-scented pinky-toe into a piquant soupcon of olfactophilia, but she's really a rank amateur compared to the serious stinky-kinksters she has smelled out for her readers.

Armpits, feet, genitals, and ass find niche aficionados, but the whole body's own, naturally produced scents emanate from every pore (as we know after we eat generous quantities of garlic). Our sense of smell is integral to taste, emotional memory, self-preservation and, some scientists believe, ultimately, to natural selection and survival of the species. As the song goes, "You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals, so let's do it like they do it on the Discovery Channel."

According to Diane Ackerman's "A Natural History of the Senses," the smells that come through our noses appear to be mostly processed in that same part of the brain as the limbic system, which is associated with emotions such as anger, fear, pleasure, sadness and sexual arousal. It's probably why smells can modulate and affect so many behaviors without our direct awareness of it. The rhinencephalon (our "nosebrain") can register a smell without us consciously realizing that we have picked up a scent. And in so doing, it affects our limbic system, tied to emotion, memory, and motivation."

Also insidiously seeping into our nosebrain may be those pesky pheromones you've read about. Many scientific claims about them are still unproven, i.e., women picking ideal mates by sniffing sweat-soaked t-shirts.

And Googling "pheromones" for serious information requires wading through myriad cyberhucksters' love charm listings. A proven pheromone principle is that women who live in close proximity to one another will synchronize menstrual cycles. Martha McClintock, who was first to prove this and to publish findings, discovered it firsthand through her own undergrad dorm life experience.

Science isn't even agreed yet on whether pheromones have an actual odor. "Kissing a guy, the taste and scent is a complete turn-off. The smell of their skin, even of the best hygiene, is not at all sexy to me," says Annalee. "Cologne is nice because it tames that pheromone action, I guess. Although I find men sexually appealing, their scent makes me want to wretch [sic]."

Contrary to Annalee's wretched experience, one study shows women are more attracted to men's smell than their looks. A psychology professor at Brown University asked questions of 332 college students, (half women) about what attracts them to the opposite sex. "Women consistently rated the olfactory cues of their potential mates as more important than visual cues." But then, women have far more sensitivity to smells than men do, and are usually more accurate at identifying odors -- like the stank of another woman on their man. It's not the lipstick on your collar, Jack -- it's the pheromones on your neck!

Diverse factors determine natural body scents. "A Natural History of the Senses" explains these basics, including:

Bathing habits also have a major influence. Some Asian cultures have long histories of the bath integrated into daily life, unlike Western societies. After the fall of Rome, Christianity's denial of "pleasures of the flesh" pretty much ruled out regular bathing until the post-Victorian era. Pity. Think how a hot, fragrant, bubble bath could have lifted a Medieval maiden's flagging spirits after a hard day of slogging alongside the oxcart, bellowing, "Bring out your dead." Calgon -- take me away!

According to popular legend, the Emperor of Raunch himself must be Napoleon, who supposedly wrote to Empress Josephine, telling her he'd be "home in three days. Don't bathe." Many people like a natural scent -- fresh, or perhaps a more Napoleonic vintage. Many gay men's leather bars have strict "no fragrance, no deodorant" policies. "Nothing in the world excites me more than the smell of a sweaty man's armpits. If someone walks by me, and I smell that distinctive, sharp smell, I must know from whom it's coming," declares Q, " A man who lets himself smell natural is, in essence, a rugged individualist and a real sexual turn-on."

Gay men don't have a monopoly on the armpit fetish, though. "I love a woman right out of a shower, with no perfume or deodorant," declares a het man on the public, online female sexuality message forum on yoni.com. "The smelling, licking and sucking of her shaved armpits is very exciting to me, sexually. Perfumes and deodorants are fine at work, or in public, but in private there is no sexier smell than a woman's armpits."

Ackerman relates this dainty Elizabethan custom: a woman would keep a peeled apple in her armpit until it was saturated with her sweat, and then give it to her sweetheart to inhale. It was called a "love apple." (Bitch tip: Holidays are just around the corner!)

Notorious for its smell in any case, the foot is a classic fetish focus. Needless to say, it is a veritable porn goldmine for big business and scrappy entrepreneurs alike. A new cottage industry is thriving online for ripely "scented" footwear and panties fresh off the bum supposedly worn by specific women. (Some sites also offer "menstrual items.") Um, nice work if you can get it.

Despite that, this woman is clearly enraptured, "I love the smell of my husband and me together after we make love. Having him satisfy himself and rub his ejaculate all over me so I can smell it sends me right into orbit." Bitch tip: Boys, some ladies do enjoy a nice "facial," but we like to "make an appointment," so, give us a little "heads up" -- and watch the eyes.

The earthiest of all body scents might be between the buttocks and legs. Aptly titled "gay butt sniffing," the Bitch dug up this guy's personal web site, "One fetish that I think about is the one when a hot jock has that man-like sweaty smell between his legs ... somewhat sweet smelling if not too dirty. I am not into raunch, but I guess the smell of slight crap and manly sweat just turns me on."

For a gentleman such as he, "not into raunch" but with more "substantial" tastes, farts would barely register on the peter meter. But for many, including Benjamin Franklin, farts are a topic of great amusement and fascination. That randy old coot! When he wasn't being a statesman, philosopher, inventor or lecher, he was writing gently-barbed, turgid essays, such as "A Letter to the Royal Academy of Brussels," which chides that august body for sponsoring mere "physical," "utilitarian" studies over the philosophical, and submits the modest proposal that the academy might just as well encourage research on truly useful subjects such as sweetening the smell of farts. (The joke of course, is an excellent one, sir!)

Apparently in today's real Age of Enlightenment, there is no longer any excuse for malodorousness with "Smell Fresh" (and its ilk) on the market! As the web site states: "This isn't a mask for body odor, it assists in the elimination and deodorizing of all bad body odors."

Naturally, there is even pay porn for fart fetishists, although there is a certain something lacking. Farting's not much of a visual, even with "killer apps." Audio-wise, you can do it yourself. You know how to make a fart noise, don't you? You just put your mouth in the crook of your arm -- and blow.

No fart fan, the Bitch; but few seem to find farts funnier than her beloved Lolita, who has a playful, earthy sense of humor and a wee bent for raunch. She lives in a 24/7 Master/slave relationship with her smart, handsome slave/boyfriend, Neptune. Lolita says, "Whenever we are with anyone who farts, he has standing orders to say, 'Excuse me.' Why? Because I told him to, and he has to do it. Just because I think it's funny!" She laughs her "wicked 6 year-old" laugh. He is very proud to be her slave and gracious about performing her capricious bidding -- to absorb others' humiliation over their public eructations.

The whimsy and power of women's sexuality is also appreciated by this man, writing on yoni.com: "When I was seven years old my older sister, her friend and I played "doctor" in our backyard. They kept rubbing our plastic toys on their Yonis and commanding me to sniff them. Since then the smell of the Yoni intoxicates me … it's primal and heavenly at the same time."

Not all women can share the confidence his partners might have. Women's hygiene products have always been marketed with the blatant message that, if left unchecked, the foul stench of our private parts will surely drive men away.

Defying all those shame-filled ads is this man on yoni.com: "I love to smell a pussy after it has had an orgasm. I especially love the aroma while a woman is on her period. There is no bigger turn on than the smell of a female. If more women would be aware that this is a turn on for some men, both sexes could benefit as a result."

LR, a femme dominant sadist, has become aware that her body and sexuality are a source of power. She revels in the ripening of her sexual scent, provoking a yearning for the taste of her delicate, dangerous feet and precious, flowing pussy. Naturally, this leaves her prey weak with desire. She reasons, in a despotic, yet matter-of-fact manner, a woman's scent is "one more avenue to sexual control."

Elizabeth F. Stewart, AKA "The Bitch of Dupont Circle" (BoDC), was lovingly given this Nomme de Perv by her mentor in the leather community, because she is a bitch, as well as a denizen of that 'hood in Washington DC. She is an art director (see www.efstewart.com) and writer (see also www.pervgrrl.org), whose fave hobbies include cracking wise, dressing up, getting off, telling others where to get off, and arranging things in an attractive fashion.