Not Really Submissive

I’ve been thinking about my ‘submissive’ fantasies and why I have them when I don’t really want to be submissive at all.

Actually when I look at it most (maybe all) of those fantasies are sexual. Let’s face it; ‘nice’ girls aren’t supposed to enjoy sex, these days it’s not even always safe to enjoy sex and anyway Dommes are supposed to be ice queens denying everybody sex.

So, that doesn’t leave many places to go with a slutty sexual fantasy. Whoever I am being, I’m not supposed to be the one being the centre of sexual attention (these days that’s surely Mat’s role) even if I’d like it. Plus while I like the idea of slutty sex (no I’m not putting the details in this post but you could read my fantasies for ideas), where on earth does one find clean, STD-free cock, that comes with an intelligent, considerate and consent aware person on the other end.
Actually, I can find those, but then when you like and respect the person on the other end, I feel rather uncomfortable about asking them to be part of my fantasies (especially if it involves multiple men which experience so far leads me to feel most men are less keen on).

Even the non-sexual aspects of those fantasies are about permission to enjoy myself, to enjoy sensations, pure physical moments without feeling guilty that I’m ‘making’ someone else do something for me, that they’re only doing it to please me, that I’m being selfish for demanding it of them.

Really (and I know some of my readers will throw something at the screen at this point) I don’t want to be a bother to anyone. Fantasies, especially submissive ones, are my way of setting up a scene where I know that I’m not a bother, where I can enjoy getting what I want, without asking and therefore without feeling guilty either for the desire itself or the imposition on someone else’s pleasure.

Whereas in real life I want (and need) to feel in control because trust does not come easy. Plus all that planning and negotiating is sometimes an unreasonable amount of effort for something I can happily enjoy in my head safely, any time I please, without any worries at all.

So fantasies are a great escape into great sex. For me, it doesn’t always need to be real, because in my head it always is.

Hotel Thoughts

I’m in bed; a large bed with crisp white sheets. A hotel room bed…

…I hear gentle breathing and I look down to see my Boy curled up on the floor beside the bed. He is lying on his side, his knees slightly drawn towards his body. His feet are tied together and the rope loops up to his wrists tied behind his back from there it runs to the bed where I am holding it firmly. I can tug it and he reacts to the movement of his bonds.
Looking down I can see his cock, hard and proud, as he lies there in my rope. It is mine to demand when I wish it. He belongs to me.
For now though I will keep tight hold of the rope and drift back to sleep.
My Boy is beside me…

…I am a happy Mistress.

Ice Bucket Challenge

When he received the email from his mistress he thought he knew what it contained from the subject line alone. He was wrong.

“Tomorrow morning when you awake take a tray of ice cubes from the freezer and tip them all into an ice bucket. Top it up with water until it is nearly full. Then immerse your cock and balls into the water for as long as you can. Use a stopwatch to measure how long that is and send me a message to let me know immediately.”

He shivered as he read the email, whether in fear or anticipation he didn’t even know himself.

The next morning he got out of bed reluctantly and went down to the kitchen not bothering to put clothes on. He took a tray of ice cubes out of the freezer and tipped them clattering into the ice bucket. Automatically he refilled the tray and returned it to the freezer. He topped up the ice bucket under the tap and then stood holding it awkwardly.

He was horribly aware of his cock, now unbelievably erect, as he contemplated the cold. He attempted to dip the tip of his erection into the water as he held the bucket. He drew back quickly. It was cold!
Finally he placed the ice bucket on a kitchen stool and with his eyes on the second-hand on the clock leaned over it and plunged his cock in. When the water reached his balls he recoiled and pulled out shivering. That was two second surely, maybe even three.

He sent his mistress his reply before heading off for a thankfully warm shower and starting his day.

Her reply arrived that evening. Praising his obedience and demanding a repeat the following day with one small change; the length of time specified precisely for him.

The next morning he stood naked leaning over the full ice bucket his eyes fixed on the clock. He leaned in, immersing his cock into the cold water, biting his lip as he counted the seconds. One, two, three, the shock of the cold made him gasp. Four, five, six, the cold seeped into him. Seven, eight, he withdrew swiftly and gratefully.

When he saw that his Domme had replied to his message of compliance he hesitated before opening it. When he saw how long the next days immersion was to be he wondered if he could endure.

The erection that stirred as he woke seemed a horribly irony as he prepared the ice bucket which was to torture his flesh. He whimpered as he plunged his cock and balls into the icy liquid.
“Mistress” he sobbed softly as thirty long seconds ticked by. His suffering was her delight.

The next message from his Domme added a new dimension to the challenge. He was to phone his mistress so that she could listen in to his morning awakening.

He prepared the icy water as usual before calling.
“Good morning ma’am”.
“Good morning”, she smiled.
“I’m ready” he murmured quietly.
“Then go ahead”.
The cold was no less shocking than before and he was hardly aware of the soft moan he let out. What he heard however was the soft purr of his mistress’ delight.
Her cooing “Good boy” held him still in the midst of his distress, and buoyed him up.
When she softly whispered after an unmeasurable time “that’s enough” he was almost reluctant for the moment to end.

He hadn’t expected another message but to his terror and delight one was waiting when he arrived home. He was to repeat his challenge one last time, again with his Domme on the phone while he did so. He wondered what evil she had planned, how long would she torture him for tomorrow?
His hands were shaking slightly as he tipped the ice cubes out of their tray. He refilled it with a slight sense of regret that this was the end of his challenge. He added the cold water and put the ice bucket on its stool before phoning his Domme.

At her command he lowered his cock into the water, leaning forward until his balls were immersed also. This last time he wanted her to be pleased with his suffering, to take exactly what she demanded from him.
His murmurs of “Mistress” were almost incoherent as the chill bit into him.
“Now take an ice cube in your hand”, the new instruction startled him.
“Yes, Mistress”.
He did as he was bidden. At her command he trailed it over his naked chest, rolling it over his nipples, leaving a trail of water across his flesh as it melted.
“Now push it into your ass”, she commanded, “let it cool you from the inside”.
“Mistress” he moaned. Was that acquiescence or a plea for mercy? He didn’t know.
“Now”.
That word, that insistence and he pushed what remained of the cube inside him.
The cold was everywhere, inside, outside. But his mistress warmed him with her approval, her encouragement and her delight.

Then, finally, she released him from the cold, his challenge completed at last.

The Bracelet

A hopelessly romantic fantasy of submission but this one is all mine.

“Your Mistress commands you wear this until you are with me again.” was all the note said.

Matthew looked at the contents of the envelope; one handwritten note and a simple black friendship band. He regarded it doubtfully.
‘At least it is subtle’ he thought. Tying it on his wrist was a tricky problem and involved the use of teeth but at last he got it fastened. He turned his wrist this way and that regarding the symbol of his bondage and then pushed it up under his cuff.

On the way into the office he was uncomfortably aware of the extra weight, although tiny, on his wrist. He found his eyes flicking to it as he drove.
“Still, if Mistress demands it” he reflected.

His morning was occasionally distracted by the presence of the bracelet on his wrist. He looked at it curiously wondering whether Rowena had made it herself, and as he thought of her and of seeing her that night a gentle smile fell across his face.
“Nice bracelet”, he looked up, startled, from his reverie as Marie from finance stood by his desk.
“Er, yes, thank you”, he muttered discomforted. Self consciously he tugged his shirt sleeve down to cover the friendship band up and hide the all too visible reminder of his submission.

In the afternoon he found his fingers running over it gently, turning about his wrist. A tiny link to his Mistress, loved but distant. He was her Boy, even here in the middle of his busy day.

Later, at home, he regarded it doubtfully as he stripped naked to have a shower.
‘Until you are with me’ the note had said. He left it on.

It survived unscathed, only a little damp, and he turned his wrist looking at it while he pondered what to wear to meet his Mistress. He pulled out a short sleeve shirt, as it was a warm night, and assessed his image in the mirror critically. The band simple and unobtrusive, yet marking him as an owned Boy, a possession, a plaything, Rowena’s. He was unaware of the pleasure in his face as he hurried out to meet her.

The bar they were meeting at was crowded. She was sitting at a table by herself. She had come straight from work and looked a little tired. Her face transformed as she saw him.
“Matthew”, she smiled with delight. “My Boy” she added quietly as she gestured him into the chair. She held out her hand imperiously and he put his wrist into it, the bracelet clearly on display.
“Good Boy”, her praise was sweet.

Later, much later, he found himself, naked, sore, kneeling at her feet, his head to the floor. Rowena stood over him, all tiredness vanished, refreshed by each moment she had used him, hurt him, played with him.
“Up Boy”, she lifted his head until he was looking up at her. She took his hand and stroked the bracelet knotted around it.
“Shall I release you from this now?”, she asked him gently.

He looked up at her adoringly, “No Mistress, please let me wear it”.

 

Forced Service

He is naked and ready to serve his mistress. His manhood confined in a cage, locked with a key she wears about her neck. The pleasure tonight is to be hers.
“Come here”, she beckons, “bend over”.

Pulled down onto all fours he crouches nervously. Her hand strokes across his ass bringing coolness as she lubes him up. He whimpers slightly as she feels him forcing a butt plug into place. It stretches him and he struggles to accept it. She fastens a strap across it, locking into the chastity device. He has no escape from the intruder in his body.

“Now pleasure me with your tongue, Boy” she purrs, “you’ll wear that toy until I cum”.
She lies back on the bed and pulls his head down between her legs. As his face is enveloped in her sweetness she moans with delight.

As his tongue explores her folds his cock struggles to rise but the cage holds it firm. His pleasure in his mistress brings an inescapable pain, a pain only to be ended with her pleasure.
Desperately he redoubles his efforts to please and his mistress moans with pleasure as he takes her over the edge. She cums, pulling his head towards her, well served.

Reclaiming My Fantasies

I remember when I was single. It was a long time ago. In those days my sex life was mine alone.

I would go to bed early, sometimes to watch TV or to read but then to lie back and pursue a story in my head, to follow it wherever it led me. Invariably I would wank myself to sleep. At one stage I remember having an imaginary lover who would come to me (through the bedroom window) every night and we would… well, let’s just say that’s my little secret for now.

I realise now how much I miss some aspects of that time. Being able to go to bed in my own bed, alone, and enjoy my fantasies to the full, acting out such parts as were possible.

My fantasies too were my own. My secrets, told to no one. Crafted to satisfy my desires. Unreal and unassailable.

Nowadays my fantasies are more hybrid. Fantasies told to my Boy are often shaped to satisfy his desires. Kinky, perverted, extreme lusts which feed his desire and allow me to give him pleasure. Fantasies here are often written to explore an idea, for the intellectual challenge or because I enjoy arousing my readers.

My own fantasies, the private ones, are hard to find time and space for. It’s rare for me to have a bedroom to myself and the time to relax and enjoy it without expectation of interruption. It’s hard for me to let my mind go these days without trying to ‘improve’ my fantasies to make them more acceptable or realistic.

I think however it’s time I tried. So I’m going to make time for me to wank. And when I find a fantasy of my own I’m going to post it here without apology. They’re not real, they’re merely fantasies but they are entirely my own.

Only Cheating Yourself

This isn’t really erotica as much as some thoughts about submission, honesty and the internet. Oh, and by the way, I’ve got this really great idea for a website…

Sam was looking for a Domme. He wasn’t ready to meet anyone in person just yet but he wanted to experiment with his submissive side. He saw a link to a website which looked perfect.FindMyDom.com promised to match him up with his perfect Domme who would supply him with tasks and punishments via their website.

He signed up straight away and began to fill in the complex form. It asked questions about likes and dislikes including hard limits. It also asked about his schedule, when was he usually at a computer, when was his time free. He waded through the survey determinedly. Finally when he had finished, he submitted the form and was met with a message telling him he would be assigned a domme very soon. Continue reading “Only Cheating Yourself”