fantasy quote

Write me a fantasy

fantasy quote10 – Write me a fantasy to carry me away to an erotic land!
This is something that we tried last year in the D/s advent calendar for 2017 and so we thought that it would be nice to give it a go again. And as fantasy tends to turn into reality with us, this could be quite exciting.

I struggle with articulating my fantasies. I have posted about the fact I cannot do this before and explained about the snap shot way that I experience fantasy. This is true. But what I had said was that this means that I can’t explain my fantasies because they are based on feelings and not acts. These feelings come from the dialogue that forms part of the Domination of me. It is to do with the erotic humiliation that I feel from certain things. This means that I don’t just find it hard to explain them, I find it intensely embarrassing to explain them and I have come to realise that I have hidden a little behind this. So to agree to write a post about one of my fantasies for one of our advent gifts was a big deal. I thought I could manage it as I did something similar last year and I have dabbled in fiction the last few months, most of which is based on the toned down fantasies that I have. But now I am here I am cringing and twisting and I am not sure really where to start.

I wrestle and I hide and I think about revealing some of the things that I think about. And I decide that they are too extreme to share and so they remain housed in my head where they are safe. But there are others. Others which I feel could be normal and so here goes. This fantasy is a follow on from this one.

* * * * * * * * * * *

We have gone into the house and she has led us up to a bedroom. The room is opulent, but the signs that it is used for play such as this is apparent. A dungeon bedroom, one could say. There is a large bed but the restraints are there as a fixed part. There are two large open cabinets, similar to armoires which, I can see, host a range of toys, restraints and implements of pleasure. Veritable tools of the trade. This does not surprise me as we know that they are a couple who enjoy these things, as are we. Although I cannot be sure, I am fairly certain that I am the only one of the four who has no experience in this sort of thing, and I feel unsure.  The journey had, however, provided the sort of build up that I need and I am quite deeply into my submissive space, feeling hesitation, but not questioning his authority over me.

There is a large bay window with a chaise longue in the centre. She sits down, her husband beside her. I am told to get undressed and my eyes search his, showing my discomfort. The silence seems to slice through me as I stumble to do as he has instructed. There is no grace in my movements, and that seeks to further define my position within this group. I feel so self-conscious, so self-aware and so exposed. They can all see that I don’t know what I am doing here and I feel the humiliation in the fact that they might know that this was all my idea. Child’s play perhaps. But like a rabbit caught in the headlights I continue, trying to pass it off as if I know what I am about. What I do know is that it has never been like this in my fantasy. I have been her I guess. Not the actual role of her but her poise, her confidence,  her self-assuredness which pulls anyone and everyone towards her.

She accepts fully what she is and that, somehow, gives her everything that I am lacking. She is able to offer what she does while at the same time remaining his. Everyone’s fantasy but belonging only to one, and that seeks only to raise her further in worth. Suddenly there I am. Awkward in my nakedness in room of people still clothed. The men are dressed as they would be usually, for comfort. Understated in well-fitting jeans and an open collared shirts. She is in lingerie (when did she change?) and she is wearing it well. It all becomes a little surreal and I can feel myself start to slip. Slipping slowly deeper and deeper into the place where I will lose myself.

He tells me to get on the bed and to lie on my back as we will begin with my usual inspection. Usual? Nothing is usual about any of this! But I do as I am told and take my position, lying flat on the bed. I turn my head to one side and he comes over, grips my jaw, and rights my face so that I am looking at him.
“I don’t think so, little one,” he says. “No hiding.”
He looks at me deeply and my face burns bright as my body responds. He usually tells me to get wet for him, all the time looking at me deep in the eyes, and then will move his hand to see if I have met his command. But this time he doesn’t speak the words. He doesn’t need to and I can feel the buzz of my body, changing for him under his gaze.

He bends my legs so that they are pulled up, knees together, and then he pushes my knees back apart again so that they fall to the sides, and he pulls the soles of my feet together so that they are touching. I am completely exposed and I focus on him, avoiding acknowledging them in my periphery. But I fool no one. They can see me and I can see them and they are watching and I don’t know what they are thinking. Sir moves, finding my breasts and squeezing them. I think of her, much more voluptuous and I squirm again at the way I must look. I hope that they don’t mind. That they aren’t repulsed by me and don’t laugh later at the fact I have thought myself worthy of this, of them.

He pulls my nipples and tweaks them and I am back with him. It is all him and as he makes my body work for him I feel myself grow stronger and surer.
“I love your nipples,” he says to me in a low murmur and I feel sexy and alive.
“They are so big and look so hot when they are stretched out. I love pulling them and stretching them like this.”
And I am slipping away, not into myself but away from who I am, allowing him to do what he wants with me and for them to observe my altered state. I wonder what they will do. Perhaps they will leave? But they stay. I am weak and in my weakness I make eye contact with her and she smiles. Just a smile. And I don’t know. It is all too fragile, too new. I can make no sense of any of it, and so I submit further, dropping deeper into the safety that giving up will bring.

He lets my nipples drop and I hope that they ping back, almost into shape. I am thinking about this when he moves lower, looking at me.
“Hmmmm. Very nice. I can see that you have done what I asked you to do. I like neat and tidy as you know. I hope there are no stray hairs but I am sure I shall find them if there are. And I think we both know how that will go.”
He pulls a glove from his pocket and reaches for some lube, which I now notice has been placed beforehand on a dresser next to the bed. He breaks eye contact as I hear him pull the glove on and I feel the lube.
“Let’s have a better look at what is going on down here shall we?” he says.
He turns to them then and tells them that he likes to use lube even though I am wet. He finds the cold makes me more reactive and that he enjoys the ease of the movement. Her husband nods and she shows no reaction.

With his two thumbs he pulls me apart and I can feel the cold lube travel from where he has let it land, over my clit to trickle down between my now open lips.
“Do you want to see how this usually goes?” he asks. And to my humiliation and embarrassment, they both stand and come over to stand with him at the end of the bed. I notice her look at her husband and he nods again at her. She then makes eye contact with me, smiling slightly as Sir works his finger around me and into me, fucking me gently with it. I feel better just from this small acknowledgement and I am reminded that, however she seems, underneath she is the same as me. Made of the same stuff.

Sir continues to work on me and I can feel that my clit is swollen and aching. He says as much and I curl a little inside again at the reality of what I am. And some of that comes from the fact that they know that I have asked for this. It has happened without my direction of course, but I have articulated the fact that this would be something I would like and the weight of the reality of that sits heavily upon me, burning on my body as I lie there, exposed, open and desirous for them. I notice Sir turn to look at her husband and something passes between them. He passes her a glove and the lube and tells her to do as Sir is doing. And then they are both there and it feels too much, way too much. I am losing it as Sir tells her she can check me out as she wishes and she moves to tweak my nipples, elongating them as he did before.

I start to lift myself up towards the sensation, lost in him and in the situation and in the fact that I am focussed in the here and now.
“Roll over,” he tells me, a command and not a request, and my stomach lurches as I roll, ungainly onto my front.
“Up a bit. On your knees!” and I do, trying not to look at the pathetic form of my body hanging beneath me. I try to see what he tells me he sees. I try to believe that and to think only of that. I can no longer see them. I am no longer aware of what they are doing together or of what they see.
“Legs apart!” the voice unfamiliar.
And I am melting in front of them all. Melting so that I can be saved, save a little part of myself and protect it some although I know that this is futile, a battle already lost. I close my eyes as I feel the lube and I feel my cheeks pulled apart to embrace it, to welcome it like the needy girl that I am.

As I feel the finger slip inside, I bury my face into the mattress. Nipples grazing I ride the feeling, whoever, whatever it is. I no longer care, or I want to think that I don’t. I hear Sir then, saying to hold it there incase I come to soon. He tells them that this is only the start but that he knows what I am like and that with this sort of play I am too easy. He tells them that I am a dirty girl, wanton and greedy for things inside me. I see him move up to stand next to me and to reach for something. He turns my head towards him and looks at me again in that way that only he can. His eyes speak the words and I can feel myself moving towards him. He is all I can see when he tells me to keep still, kisses me and then slips the hood over my head. It all goes black.

“Ok, time to roll over, little one.”
I move onto my back again. I hear some noise and then a cuff is strapped to each ankle and each wrist. I am then stretched and secured, spread out before them, unable to move. My mind is racing, unsure of what is going to happen, how far it will go, and a sharp flood of fear thrills through me. I lie still for a while, waiting, and nothing happens. I hear movement and then a door clicks open. More movement and then voices in the distance although I can’t tell how far as everything is muffled from the hood. The movement causes the air to move over me and I feel my nipples harden again. I am sure I feel a heat between my legs as if there is someone there. I imagine they are looking but I can’t really tell. Everything seems different, altered somehow. Then I feel the fingers and the touching starts.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I have left this before the end. As I say, my fantasies are snapshots so things move so much faster in my head. I know in a split second what will take me a lot of words to write and even then the words don’t seem to be enough, with details missed which are probably key.


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Posted in D/s Advent Calendar 2018, Erotic Humiliation, Projects and tagged , , , .


  1. Ooh this is very hot… TFS! I know what you mean about the ideas being fleeting and then gone and probably missed details… but I am sure it was fun to imagine… it was fun to read!

  2. Wow missy, that’s a hot story. I liked how you kept the reader with you, telling us your thoughts and feelings of humiliation along the way. I so want to see how it continues!

  3. Best line… “I feel the humiliation in the fact that they might know that this was all my idea.“ Maybe I love that because I too have a love/hate relationship with my fantasies? I can create the best ideas for my own humiliation…but I’d prefer no one know they were mine! Oh but to have them done to me!!!

    • I can relate to that so well. I can’t ask for it because it is so humiliating but it will be a trigger for my submissive space if it happens ?

  4. I used to write my fantasies as fiction because it felt safer that way. And I can relate to fantasies as snapshots. Mine are never very detailed or drawn out…often just a feeling or a sensation that I’d like, and nothing more.

    • I think you are right with the safety thing for me too. I feel I am getting better at being able to articulate them but some are well hidden and can’t imagine being able to put them into a typical scene ?

  5. Wow. What a well written fantasy. Could picture myself and Sir in the room watching you. Really interesting piece of writing. Sent shivers down my spine!

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