The New Black Lace Book of Women's Sexual Fantasies (26 page)

Even though she was still in the throes of her orgasm, she
felt her cunt clench as he spoke. She had never wanted anyone
quite this much.

'Oh, God . . . please . . .' she cried, 'Please fuck me. I need you
inside me, please?'

'We are impatient, aren't we, slut?'

She felt him at her feet, her ankles, but couldn't make out
what he was doing. It was only once he'd undone the second
one that she realised she was free. She thanked him immediately,
but should have known that it was never that simple
with him.

'On your knees, fuckslut. Face on the mattress. Arse in the
air.'

It was the most degrading position for her, she hated it. So
exposed, so open, just ready to be used. She turned herself over,
the wrist restraints being flexible enough to turn around even
if they didn't let her move away much. She pulled herself up
onto her knees with difficulty, knowing that he was watching
and enjoying the spectacle, more so knowing how embarrassed
she was. She lay, arms outstretched in front of her, face down,
arse up in the air, and waited.

'Good girl,' he said finally, before she felt him touch her
dripping cunt again.

To her shame, she felt moisture dribble down the insides of
her thighs, and she flushed crimson knowing that he, too, could
see it. He scooped some up and smeared it over her arsehole,
slowly massaging her puckered hole until she was relaxed
enough to accept his finger as it probed inside her. To her shame,
she found herself grunting and pushing back on him.

'You dirty, filthy little bitch. You want me to fuck your arse!'
he exclaimed, unable to hide the elation in his voice.

She whimpered in reply, pushing her face harder into the
pillow as he continued his invasion. Finally she felt him withdraw
his fingers – she wasn't sure if she was relieved or not,
but she felt desperately empty. He rubbed his cock all around
her drenched cunt, smearing it in her abundant juices before
holding it steady at her tight opening. And then he just stopped.
She moaned in frustration, but still he remained frozen. Calmly,
eventually, she heard his voice.

'Beg for it, little one. Beg for your Master to use his slut's
arse. Beg to come with my cock inside you. Make it convincing
and I might allow you to . . .'

'Oh, God, please . . . I need you . . . I need to come, please,
please fuck my arse, Master, let me feel you inside me . . .'

She was still pleading when she felt the first thrust as he
plunged his cock deep inside her hot tight arse. She whimpered
in pain, and then in pleasure, then in pain again; she hated
not knowing whether she loved something or whether she
hated it. He fucked her slowly, speeding up just when she
started to panic and slowing down just when she started to
come. She tried to move a hand down to touch her cunt but
the restraints prevented any movement. She cried out in frustration
before feeling his fingers there, the pads of his fingertips
tapping gently over her engorged and throbbing clit.

'Come for me, slut. Come with me buried in your arse. Come
for your Master.'

Her orgasm had already taken hold, and she contracted
violently around nothing, the emptiness in her cunt only
emphasising the contractions in her arse. Feeling her spasm
around his rock-hard cock was too much, and he began spilling
his seed deep into her bowels. He grunted into her ear as he
came, called her a dirty fucking bitch, telling her he loved her,
that he owned her, that she belonged to him. Her own orgasm
was still rife, and, with these words and the feeling of him
spurting jets of hot come into her, she came again, tearfully
sobbing as her body reached its limit.

Finally, after forever, they collapsed onto the bed, him still
inside her and both their bodies racked with sweat, come and
tears. He slithered out of her arse, and they soon fell fast asleep
with his come dribbling slowly out of her. It was her favourite
way to sleep.

J B, age 30
Homosexual
Single, moderately sexually active
No children
College degree
Occupation unknown
Arizona, USA

I would like to have six women at once (one on each hand, one
on each foot, one on my mouth, one giving me head) while
underwater. This is obviously a fantasy because of a human
need for air.

Maggie, age 18
Heterosexual
Virgin
High School student
Ohio, USA

When I was young (er, I'm not old now), I was very closedminded.
Everything
offended me, especially bondage, which
was ironic considering my idol for both my confidence and my
body was Bettie Page. When I discovered she was popular for
her bondage work (naive, much?) I was a little disturbed, but I
started to become more accepting. If Bettie did it, then it must
not be as evil/weird as I'd been led to think. Then, a few years
ago, I saw the movie
Secretary
and found myself distressingly
turned on. So I started poking around the internet, reading related
books (
Story of O, Venus in Furs;
I avoided, and still do, Sade, because
I find him tasteless), and finding whatever movies I could on the
subject. I went from missionary, vanilla, maybe a few strawberries
thrown in for good measure, to chains, whips and leather in a
matter of months. Now anything with a touch of domination to
it is enough to get me a little hot. Maybe it's the alpha male in
the vampire romance book, or maybe it's the possessive lover in
the vanilla ones. Movies, too, that reference bondage or D/s, are
huge turn-ons. And leather clothes, of course!

All the men I know are pussies. It doesn't help that I'm stuck
in the middle of super-Christian Ohio, where the boys get this
wide-eyed look and consider running home to mommy if you
even hint at wanting to be tied up. That, and I'm very romantic
– I'm still a virgin because I don't really want to even play until
I'm in love. Maybe not first love; I don't want to jump right in
the sack with the first guy I've got feelings for. I want to be a
little sane about it, you know?

The themes of my fantasies involve bondage, being dominated,
and S&M in general. This usually all occurs in an M/s
sort of setting. And I can never fantasise if there isn't love
involved, so it's usually a committed and very fictional relationship.
I'm a feminist's dream, I'll tell you that. So usually my
fantasies involve the same characters – I'm a writer, so I like
consistency in my cast. My favourite usually involves a dom
character of mine (Tiberius, also my favourite) sneaking up on
me and blindfolding me, then asking me to strip. He leads me
to his room and lays me gently face down on the four-poster
bed; then he ties me up, spreadeagled, and gives me a massage.
Nice warm peppermint oil; candles that I can't see but I can
smell; lovely low light, maybe some music.

Then out comes the knife.

Sometimes he'll excuse himself for a moment while he
goes to get himself a glass of wine; other times he'll already
have it somewhere on his person, or on the end table. He
teases me – it might be sharp, it might not. I'm terrified of
blades and cuts, so I do as he says and stay stiff as a board,
terror and desire all welling up in a delicious combination
as he drags the tip of the blade over my skin: my thighs, my
back, the back of my neck, the backs of my arms. Sometimes
he presses hard enough to draw welts over me. Then, when
I'm least expecting it and soaked from the fear, he slides it
between my thighs (his finger over the edge if it is, indeed,
the sharp knife) and fucks me with it. When I first realise
just what he's done, I whimper and try to squirm away, but
he warns me that any undue movement and I'll hurt
myself.

Oh, yeah, and he's laughing the whole time, sometimes
leaning down to kiss me and tell me how proud he is or how
much he loves me.

Damn, now I need to change my panties.

Sue, age 43
Bisexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Children
College
Dream Interpreter
Southeast Scotland, UK

On discovering an S&M magazine at the age of eight, I
dis covered that it gave me a 'strange' feeling. As I grew up I
realised that this feeling was sexual excitement! I am now in
a D/s relationship with my partner, with me being the submissive
one. I'm more at ease with who and what I am, and have
become an active member of the BDSM community.

In my fantasy I am lying naked on the bitter stone; I can
feel the carvings beneath me pressing themselves into my
flesh. As I turn my head I can see those same symbols cut into
the monoliths that surround this slab I'm chained to.

I move my head again, staring up at the moon, full and
glistening in the clear night sky. A slight breeze whispers over
my nudity and my nipples sti-en. In the distance I can hear a
single drumbeat repeating over and over and over, the seconds
counting down until my fate is realised.

I hear him approach, his footfalls muffled by the damp grass..
I dare not turn to look at him and instead close my eyes and
view his features from the scorching on my memory.

I feel his aura spiral with mine as he moves his hand just
above my body. I yearn for him to touch me, to feel the warmth
of his hand just one more time. He senses my thoughts and
places his hand, fingers spread, on my chest, the heel of his
hand taking in my increasing heartbeat.

In a swift movement, his hand grips my throat, his forefinger
and thumb squeezing into my neck. Leaning down, I feel his
sweet breath on my face, know that my lips are parting slightly
in anticipation of his kiss. And when that comes I sigh so
deeply, immersing myself in him.

I feel bereaved as he pulls away from the kiss. His fingers
move from my throat and trail lightly down the length of my
body, his fingers exploring my slit, gathering my moisture then
anointing my lips with those juices.

He tells me to open my eyes, to let him see my love, my
commitment, my devotion. I gaze up at him and feel myself
drowning in his exquisiteness.

I catch a reflection in his eyes, the glint of metal, then feel
a needlepoint of steel press lightly at the side of my neck. I
know the time has come. The end and the beginning. There
is no pain as he draws the knife over my throat, only a deep
sense of joy, an ever-increasing warmth inside me. I feel my
eyelids flutter and I begin the eternal journey that he has sent
me on.

Rough Trade

Lucia, age 36
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
No children
Bachelor's degree
Homemaker
Northeast England, UK

I'm turned on by any form of punishment, especially spanking,
the display of legitimate authority of one person over another.
To be honest, actual sex is never all that arousing to me. I live
completely in my head, so my fantasies are the mind-blowing
part for me, not the physical sensations of sex. I don't find
anything offensive when it comes to an individual's personal
fantasies. There are no taboos in the safety and freedom of
fantasy; nor should there be.

This is my most embarrassing confession and I've never
shared it with anyone. I have a recurring fantasy about being
selected for special experiments in a Nazi prison camp. I'm
sent to a 'love camp' to be a whore for the officers of the Third
Reich. Some men have more sadistic desires than others, and
girls who fail to satisfy are punished. After a public whipping
in the yard, they are left naked in bondage afterwards, on
display as an example to the others. One of my favourite embellishments
is an officer who stops to look at the marks after
I've been whipped. He says, 'Looks like someone's been a
naughty girl', and fondles me casually while I moan in
shame.

One day a scientist arrives and all the girls are lined up in
the yard for inspection. He needs a girl for a special experiment.
He makes his way down the line, opening the girls' tops and
fondling their breasts, lifting their skirts and touching them,
commenting to his assistant who follows with a clipboard. It's
all very businesslike, like a slave auction. I whimper and squirm
at his touch when it's my turn, and he likes my responsiveness.
'I'll take this one,' he says at last. 'Have her cleaned up and
brought to my laboratory.'

After a thorough, invasive and humiliating medical examination,
I am used as a guinea pig for di-erent methods of
punishment. He doesn't talk to me at all – only to his assistant.
First he straps me down on my back on a sterile tilting table.
My arms are secured overhead. He unbuttons my top to expose
my breasts for a whipping. Next I am strapped down over a
trestle and he uses a cane on my bottom. Sometimes he leaves
the room and his assistant molests me – he's not as dutyminded
as his superior.

Tracy, age 49
Heterosexual
Steady relationship, not live-in
Children
BSN
Nurse
Birmingham, UK

I generally have BDSM fantasies. I am submissive and they
usually involve both male and female doms. I have in the
past fantasised about gang-bangs and other women. In my
favourite fantasy I'm naked in a corner with my hands on
my head. My female dom ushers in three men. They ignore
me, spending time looking at photos of previous sessions and
discussing what will happen during this session, which will
culminate in me being anally fucked by all three men. I am
summoned by the mistress to the centre of the room and
slowly spanked, paddled, and caned until I'm highly
marked . . . nipple clamps, etc., are used. After a break where
my marks are admired by all present, my mistress uses a large
dildo to mouth-fuck me and spreads my legs to show the men
that I'm in fact enjoying it very much. She inserts the dildo
in my cunt and directs the men to fuck my ass very hard. I
say thank you.

Name withheld, age 25
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Children
A level
Logistics Administrator
Cheshire, England

I usually fantasise once a day. I'm now a lot more open to
di-erent sexual preferences and will try anything once; I keep
an open mind. What holds me back is the fear of shocking my
husband! My current favourite fantasy is about being urinated
on during sex – to be made to drink my tormentor's pee, to
have him pee in every hole, and the entire time he's telling me
how bad and naughty I am.