My Secret Garden (Women Sexual Fantasies) (19 page)

P.S. A few thoughts I’ve had on sexual fantasies: It seems that the more liberated I become (I’m really digging Women’s Lib now) the more I fantasize about the spanking and the bondage.

Since I’m fully liberated in my work situation, social life, etc., it’s almost as if I’m trying to achieve some sort of counterbalance to this liberation in my sexual life. I’ve always had the first two fantasies, but never so intensely as since I’ve been involved in Women’s Lib, or rather, since I’ve embraced the principles behind the movement. I am sure there are other women like me, who having emerged from being under male domination, crave to return to it in bed.

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Another thing – the more I think of it, the more I feel an ideal male-female relationship would be one in which
both
feel free to confide their fantasies to each other and
both
care enough for each other to endeavor to make these fantasies come true. It would be great, for example, if my fantasy were to mesh with his, i.e., if he craved to

spank me or tie me down while I craved to be spanked or tied down. This is not the case, but he loves me enough to be willing to try these things. Now I intend to discover
his
fantasy, and if it’s at all possible, I shall attempt to fulfill that fantasy. Again, it would be too much to expect (but maybe it’s true) that he fantasizes being tied down. But if he should desire to paint my body, say, or be whipped, or, have me wear some kind of costume, I’ll do all in my power to accommodate him. What’s wrong with playing out these inner desires? Why are we so afraid to share them?

I hope you can use my experiences. I feel really turned . on just writing about them! Good luck with your project. [Letter]

Poppy

I am a white Catholic American woman, 32 years old with three sons. I have been married twice. My second husband and I have been married more than eleven years.

I always entertain a sexual fantasy while having sex which results in an orgasm for me. Over the years the fantasy has changed, as we have moved about the country a great deal, and I am thus always meeting new people and finding myself in new situations.

My fantasy is about the man with whom I recently had. an affair which lasted seven months. He is married and is eleven years younger than I. He has two younger college age brothers. I fantasize that his family, he, his two brothers, his wife, and his father take my clothes off and make me wait on them, doing 139

anything they ask. I am required to suck off all the men in front of everyone, and if the man does not feel I have done a good job, he spanks me. I receive many spankings. After I have performed fellatio on them all – including cunnilingus on the wife – I am tied to a bed spread-eagle style and they play with me, sometimes

. roughly, i.e., one of the men will put his anus over my mouth and request that I tongue him. His wife usually performs cunnilingus on me, and I get very excited looking at her and having everyone standing around and watching. I am required to say words like "fuck" frequently and must describe my aroused feelings to them all. Usually I come at about this time.

Sometimes I am allowed to choose someone to degrade, and I always choose the father, whom I didn’t like. I make him perform cunnilingus on me for hours and I always end up whipping him for poor performance. [Letter]

Heather

I am writing in reply to your request for female sexual fantasies.

I do, fantasize, sometimes when I am having difficulty reaching an orgasm (my boy friend always has to stimulate me manually after he has come). I pretend that I am being humiliated in some way. Or that I am being displayed by a man, such as a slave owner, for the benefit of his friends. Heaven knows why, but if I can think of this intensely enough, I have a fantastic orgasm.

I don’t think he would be jealous if I told him about these fantasies, just angry. I think he just wouldn’t be able to understand, and would be rather disappointed in me and disgusted. You see, we are both university graduates; he has always been proud of my intelligence. He can’t stand girls who can’t discuss a variety of topics with him with some degree of knowledge. He likes to think of us as being down-to-earth, 140

sensible people. I am reserved, rather tall, dress in a fashionable but sophisticated way – he doesn’t like fluffy, giggly girls. He dominates me in ordinary things – I never get my own way when deciding when or where to eat, what film to see, etc. But he does not dominate me sexually, at least in – the way I want him to.

He will make me massage his back or scratch it until I am bored to tears; he expects me to fondle him and kiss him for long periods of time without actually doing anything to me. But he would never dream of forcing me to make love, or hit me or anything.

Actually, he is very good in bed. I have slept with eight other men, so I have grounds for judging him. There are times when I reach the heights of ecstasy, but there are times when I feel strongly frustrated and restless. This is when I have these strange domination-humiliation fantasies. I even have them during masturbation. (I don’t actually fantasize during masturbation, I simply have to think about the threat itself.) From what I’ve told you of our relationship, I suppose you are wondering why I don’t tell him about my domination wish. After all, he will listen to anything I care to tell him about myself or my desires without being shocked (although he never offers up any thoughts of his own). Well, the reason is he spent a year in digs.

His landlady was a nymphomaniac. She slept with any man she could lay her hands on, and she seduced him. He was young and inexperienced, and he admits she taught him everything he knows. She used to creep into his room at night, leaving her husband in bed, and make love to him. Her husband knew, but because he couldn’t satisfy her, he was resigned to letting her get satisfaction elsewhere.

My boy friend enjoyed the lovemaking but felt dirty and disgusted with himself afterwards. He has always said how he enjoys our "pure" lovemaking. He loves me and says it makes him feel happy afterward. I felt very inferior when he told me. He made her sound so much sexier. Of course, she had so much 141

more experience than I did. However, whenever I suggest extending our lovemaking, in particular to fellatio, he says he doesn’t want me to do it because he’s sure I won’t like it. He admits he enjoyed it very much when she did it to him, however.

He refuses to believe I really want to do it. I have done it with other men and enjoyed it, but he just won’t let me. At least, he will to the point of ejaculation, then he pulls me away.

So you see, he has put me on a pedestal in a way. He sees me as pure, clean, and wholesome (even though he knows about the other men) and doesn’t want that image destroyed.

My first sexual fantasy occurred soon after puberty. I was about eleven or twelve. At night I would lie in bed and imagine I was walking in the woods. A strange man followed me, and when I started to run away, he caught me and beat me. Every night I would go through varieties on this theme – the man would overpower me – take me away and force me to do things against my will. The sex part was rather hazy. I had no clear ideas on that at that age. By thinking about this before going to sleep, I could make myself dream about it, too. Later the fantasy changed to me being taken away to the East and sold as a slave. There were an infinite number of possibilities to the story, as I was bought and sold by a number of men in succession. Very occasionally I still fantasize about this. My fantasies obviously fall into the "being on exhibition" category in the humiliation sense rather than one of showing off.

My farfetched slave girl fantasies seem absurd, but there is one I will never tire of until something definite happens to end it. I went out with a boy four years ago. I was still a virgin and very green. He flirted with me, made me fall madly in love with him, and then dropped me flat. The main reason I fell for him was that he had a sense of cruelty in him – not vicious, but enough to satisfy my desires. He would grab hold of my wrists and pin me against a wall or on the bed, and force me to kiss him. I would struggle but he would always win, being extremely strong. We 142

both enjoyed these encounters, but we never went further than that and I was still a virgin when he finished with me.

The strange thing is that we still know each other, and we are always very aware of each other’s presence. When we met at a party a few months ago, we flirted with each other, and he did things that other people didn’t notice, like crushing my hand when he held it, and biting my lips when we kissed until I nearly cried out in pain. He saw this and was obviously enjoying it.

Then we had a serious talk, and decided we should stop messing about and be sincere friends (we didn’t mention the pleasure we both got out of pain in our different ways…we never have and no one else knows). Since then he has been very kind to me…when I was upset about my boy friend, he comforted me and let me stay with him. We slept together, but I was too miserable to enjoy it and he was doing it out of concern, not desire, so it was not a success. He treats me very normally, usually, always when in front of his friends…. But when they’re not around, there are flashes of the old treatment. He knows – I can tell by the way he looks at me – of my need for domination, and likes to tease me by sometimes cooperating and sometimes refusing to, just in little things, this is.

However, I fantasize constantly about what would happen if we were completely alone somewhere, away from all our friends, and we could let ourselves go, and not pretend to be

"respectable."

I can never get him out of my mind. It is now four years, and yet when he walks in the room, I still tense up. I can never relax when he’s there. Other girls, many of them, have come and gone.

All of them have been hurt by him, and I am the only one who is still a friend. He has strong ambitions, he wants to travel abroad and make a success of his career, and he has no time for a steady girl friend, much less a wife who will tie him down. There has always been a bond between us, and I only wish I had met him about five years from now when he had got settled in his career, 143

because I think he is the only person who could fulfill all of my needs. He has more or less said the same to me.

As it is, I am going to marry my boy friend. He will make a good husband and father, but I am afraid that I may go through the rest of my life feeling something is missing.

Well, I hope that somewhere in this long, confused letter you can find something of use to you. It has been a relief to talk about it, anyway. [Letter]

Ingrid

A few days after my wedding, I read about a young woman who on her honeymoon was taken every day to a tattooist by her husband, and during the two weeks they were staying there she had to agree to whatever her husband wanted, and she was tattooed on every part of her body.

I don’t know whether it is true or not, but I thought about it a lot and I even asked my husband if he would like to have me tattooed. He thought I was kinky or something and that he had married a crazy woman, so I never dared mention it again.

Since then, whenever my husband fucks me I just think about being tattooed and I imagine myself having to strip and be tattooed without being asked if I want it or not. I think of what it would be like to have really cheeky words and pictures put on me. This gets me steamed up and really going and my husband thinks it is him that is getting me like that, and it is not at all.

At one time I used to collect pictures of tattooed people and patterns that I thought would be nice as things to have done, but then I threw them away because I got frightened that he might find them. I really would like to be tattooed, but of course it is not possible. But just to think about it gets me going. Mostly though, it only happens when I am having it off with my husband; and there is another little thing: If I get too randy, I start rolling about, 144

and if my husband loses it out of me he gets mad at me. So I have to be a bit careful.

I have never told anyone else about this and I know you will think I am silly but it really does happen. [Letter]

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ROOM NUMBER SIX:

THE SEXUALITY OF TERROR, OR,

"HELP! I’M OUT OF CONTROL,

THANK GOD!"

I may be making work for myself, defining differences in the emotions behind fantasy where they may not exist, setting up two rooms in the House of Fantasy where there could be one. It would be easier – certainly more obvious – to relegate Johanna (below) to the Rape Room, instead of arranging for a completely separate space just to satisfy her slightly different, though none the less real, sexual desires.

But this House has no precedent, nor has my work, and therefore I choose to specify a whole separate area of fantasy that is occupied by fear. Not just ordinary fear, but the kind of total and complete terror that can be strangely sexual when you see it as leading to loss of control. It’s the only way I can account for the different quality in the fantasies that follow. You don’t have to be a psychiatrist to understand that for some women who never reach an orgasm, it may have to do with their fear of letting go, fear of the helplessness, the lack of control, that goes with orgasm…you just have to be a woman. And for some women –especially highly independent, self-contained women like Johanna and Anne (below), who manage their lives unto themselves – the loss of this control must be terrifying, the experience of orgasm impossible without, and synonymous with, the terror.

You don’t have to have been "scared shitless" to know what it means. Continue the sensation of the pounding heart, the open mouth; the helpless, limp attitude of the body on to orgasm, and you’re halfway to understanding the sexuality of fear for these women.

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Johanna

During the time my husband and I were living just outside Mexico City, we met another couple who lived about a mile down the road, named Charles and Johanna. One day while Johanna and I were alone in their house, she opened a drawer; inside it was a gun. "Charles leaves it for me when I’m alone,"