A while back, an artist I was working with asked me about my fantasies. And I couldn’t tell him. I was a stripper, the manager of an adult toy store, and an active submissive in the LA BDSM scene, and I couldn’t articulate my fantasies.
If I couldn’t, what about others?
I realized then that one of the reasons I couldn’t articulate my fantasies was because I don’t often center myself in them.
If you’d like to see what I mean about not centering myself in my fantasies, read on below.
Or if you just want to read someone’s hot fantasy, then that’s as good a reason as any to keep reading too…
Note: The nature of adult fantasy, i.e., who and what we fantasize about, and how, and why, is complex and different for everyone. On top of that, it can change. That said, if the fantasy below were happening in reality, explicit consent for any sexual activity would have been discussed and obtained well before the scene began.
The Domme grinned.
Even though the sparse play room was darkened, the squirming going on inside the submissive’s head was evident in her face, even through the blindfold.
Colored light shifted shades at the rate of an inhale-exhale exchange. Everything else was black – the walls, the floor, the equipment. Metal glinted here and there.
The Domme had just discreetly informed N that D, another sub, was going to perform oral on her, and if she climaxed, he would then be instructed to have sex with her.
She knew that both subs wouldn’t necessarily mind having sex with each other but that they would prefer having sex with her. She also knew that they would both do whatever she told them to since they were dedicated to pleasing her. It was a responsibility that she had earned and did not take lightly.
Unlike N’s, D’s face remained unchanged when she had said in his ear, “You’re going to perform oral on N, and if you make her climax, you will be rewarded with the privilege of sleeping with me.”
She knew that underneath his blindfold, his eyes were closed. Neither of these subs needed blindfolds – they would keep their eyes closed no matter what if she instructed them to do so, but she preferred the look of blindfolds.
N’s wrists were comfortably latched at shoulder height to a wall. D was steely on his knees. Both were nude except for their blindfolds and collars.
The Domme grinned.
No matter what happened, she would win.
That’s it. Well, not it it.
I don’t describe the mistress or the subs in detail because I want them to look like whoever I want them to look like, depending on my mood. And the ending can change based on my mood as well. Sometimes I’m the Domme, sometimes I’m one of the subs, or I can shift back and forth between their minds as often as I want.
So many possibilities!
Sometimes I wonder if enough of us talk, really talk, about what turns us on.
(As open-minded as I try to be, I find that I often play games and hold my cards close to my chest because, with a partner, the stakes feel so high.)
I suppose it’s possible that talking openly about our fantasies is more common now that we connect with partners through messenger apps. Perhaps that medium has made us all more confident. Better at communicating. Bolder. I’d like to think so anyway…
Image credit: nico_blue, istockphoto