My Secret Garden (Women Sexual Fantasies) (18 page)

My fantasies occur whenever I am beginning to feel any real sexual arousal, and real pleasure. They don’t distract from the pleasure, but on the contrary, enhance it. I am sure it is very hard for anyone to understand this, and how can I possibly tell my husband, whom I love, that I am dreaming that the most atrocious things are being done to my body while he is being so loving to me?

These fantasies or dreams usually begin with my body being stretched, one brutal man on each limb, pulling me in opposite directions, literally spreading me wide open so that some immensely huge penis – there is no one or nothing on the end of it – begins to enter me, stretching me, ripping me, my vagina, wide open as it pushes its way deeper into me. The men twist my 130

arms painfully as well as pull them, and I can hear my bones breaking and cracking, while the sound of my skin, around my vagina, also rips audibly. I cry out in reality even as I cry out in my fantasy. But I love it, even though my intelligence and logic tell me that I am being ghoulish, that this is not a normal way to enjoy sex. And I do enjoy it. I hate what is happening to me in my fantasies, but it is inextricably involved with my very real pleasure. [Letter]

Amanda

I read your interesting letter and thought that I would like to write to you about my own experiences, which I hope are of assistance to you in your book. I am thirty-six years old, married with two children, and often indulge in fantasies, even during the day, as a relief from the pure boredom of my life.

I do not remember when I first started fantasizing, but when I was very young I used to lie stretched out on my; bed and dream that I was a princess who had been captured and who was waiting to be tortured, and this made me feel pleasurably aroused. Later, as I became more sophisticated and my thoughts developed, I imagined myself being racked, impaled, flogged, branded, and every other thing that you can think of, ending with vigorous and orgasmic masturbation. I masturbated frequently and, for that matter, still do, because, although my husband is the kindest man, he is the world’s worst lover.

As a girl I longed to be subjected to the most outrageous forms of abuse, and could embroider little incidents to enormous fantasies of atrocities. Toward the end of school we underwent the usual examination, and in. truth the doctor barely looked at me, although I hoped, and dreaded, that he would find it necessary to carry out some dreadful form of surgical mutilation.

For years afterward in my dreams I imagined myself being prepared by male nurses and then voluntarily submitting myself 131

to the most atrocious vivisection, scornfully refusing anesthetics and bravely absolving my tormentors from any guilt in my slow, lingering death (in the name of science, of course).

From all this you will think that I am masochistic, but the truth of the matter is that I am not and I just cannot stand pain. My parents never punished me and once, after stealing some money, I was threatened with the strap and this sent me into howling hysterics. In fact, you can say that I was overindulged in every way possible, and, to a degree, this has continued right up to my present circumstances.

About two years ago a friend described to me, in some detail, the lewd suggestions made to her by a man who had pierced her ears. Despite her warning, I visited him in the hope that he would make them to me, but, arriving at the door, I lost confidence and would have fled if he had not come up the garden path behind me.

I think my friend’s account had been grossly elaborated, because when I warmed to the true purpose of my trip, he nearly had a fit when I insisted upon removing my dress and slip.

Eventually, and not at all at his suggestion, I ended up stripped to my shoes, stockings, and garter belt, and submitted to a few half-hearted fumblings and gropings before going home with my ears pierced lopsidedly and decidedly sore.

Despite the shabbiness of the incident, in my dreams I regally and serenely present myself in front of a huge audience for the ritual piercing of my nipples with hot needles, after which huge rings are inserted. More recently this has expanded, so that in taking a simple bath I am being prepared for an elaborate ritual of circumcision, ceremonial rape, and final sacrifice (by disemboweling) to some awesome god. This is my latest and most protracted fantasy, and one which drives me to distraction whenever I indulge in it.

I hope that what I have written is of interest to you and I do assure you that every word is true. [Letter]

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ROOM NUMBER FIVE:

DOMINATION, OR, "HOW

HUMILIATING! THANK YOU."

I’d put this room next to Rape and Masochism. Not for the convenience of the clients – a woman is faithful to her favorites, and there’d be very little running about from room to room – but for the economy of the management: the costumes and props are interchangeable among the three. There, however, the sharing stops; force may be applied in all three rooms simultaneously –but to different degrees and in different directions, and the precise emotions being aroused and released will differ dramatically. Or

"deliciously," as the clients themselves might say.

Whatever their reasons for wanting it, the domination fantasists long to feel low. They relish being debased and; reduced by whatever means to a state of abject humiliation. How they get down there doesn’t matter: Poppy (below) doesn’t even bother to say how she is "made" to perform her humiliating tasks; Nathalie may get spanked into submission, but spanking is such an obvious childhood symbol of domination that we don’t need Nathalie to tell us that it isn’t the spanking itself that turns her on. It’s the state to which that humiliating act reduces her that matters. And the more exactly specified those depths can be, the better. Heather doesn’t just long to be knocked off the pristine pedestal her lover has put her on, she wants to be fiat on her ass, in the lowest, most purely sexual, position; Nathalie doesn’t stop at yearning to be reduced to that bane of proud and liberated 133

women, an object – she wants it all the way, to be a thoroughly, exclusively sexual object at that.

As women move more strongly into their recently won sexual freedom, and leave their historic role of second (and "silent") sex behind, I predict that they will, ironically, get into domination fantasies more and ,more. But the move will be in two different directions. First, the new reality of being man’s equal makes them unconsciously nervous about their identity as women, and so throws them back into longing for the traditional, safe, and

"known" role vis-à-vis the dominating man; but second, they will want to explore, and signal even to themselves, their new liberated age by putting themselves into the dominant position of the sexual brute. Whether as brute or brutalized, in fantasy at least the centuries of female submission are about to be avenged.

But what it all comes back to in the end is that if you’re into the sadomasochistic thing it really doesn’t matter, of course, which end of the stick (or whip!) you’re on; turnabout can be lovely play, and as long as somebody is being debased, and you’re in on it, it’s great.

Nathalie

You are so right that one tends to feel one’s sexual fantasies are too "odd" to admit to or discuss. I have never "card another woman mention the topic, although I’m sure we all have some fantasy or another. I have finally been able to mention my two fantasies to my current !over, amidst much "fear and trembling"

and aided by the effects of several martinis. The feeling of relief I have from just getting this out into the open has made me feel free enough to broach the subject to several of my closest women friends, who agree that we all have weird notions, but who are too reticent to share theirs with
me!

I don’t know if you want background or not – I’m assuming you do. I’m twenty-nine years old, swinging and single. I 134

consider myself to be liberal and liberated sexually. I’ve had more than twenty semiserious affairs since I was relieved of my virginity seven years ago. I adore sex and will try anything to enhance my lover’s pleasure. I masturbate regularly, and climax within minutes, especially if I fantasize, although I don’t need to.

I’ve always loved the whole sex thing, from the first touch to the last kiss, even though I never climaxed with a man until about three years ago.

I enjoy being sexually aggressive at times, and at times I crave to be dominated. I think about sex a lot and can get turned on easily by erotic reading material.

Now, for my fantasies, neither of which has been fulfilled –yet. The thought that my lover is now aware of them and is planning our next encounter around them is driving me wild.

My first fantasy is that of being spanked: I have always provoked the spanking, it’s never unjustified. My innate female bitchiness causes my lover to say very quietly, "All right, that’s enough!" I say, "Don’t order me around." He says, "You’re asking for a good spanking." I say, "I’d like to see you try it," in a very taunting manner.

At which point, he grabs me, grasps both hands firmly behind my back, pulls down my panties, turns me over on his knee, and traps my kicking legs between his. I am embarrassed and scared.

He usually uses his hand, spanking me maybe two dozen times, very hard. Sometimes I fantasize that he uses a hairbrush or ruler.

Usually his hand, though. I am sobbing and enraged. The rage turns to humiliation, which turns to submission. At the end he forces me back on the bed and enters me, not roughly, but without foreplay either. Or sometimes I like to think of myself staying at the enraged part throughout the spanking. He pushes me back on the bed, hovers over me, and shoves his erect penis into my mouth, ordering me to suck it. I refuse and bite him, which brings on another, still more painful spanking, at which point I am eager to do whatever, he asks. I’ve never fantasized 135

being brutalized; I don’t, think I’d care for whippings (although excerpts from
The Pearl
or
The Story of O
stimulate me tremendously). As a rule I hate pain, except when approaching a climax, when I find pleasure in being bitten on my inner thighs hard enough to bruise the skin. But this spanking fantasy has been with me for years and years. The thought of being spanked used to arouse sexual feelings at the age of six or seven, even though I didn’t recognize them, and, of course, I didn’t know about intercourse or fellatio at that age. If it matters, I have never in my conscious memory been spanked by either of my parents.

My second fantasy is as follows. Screaming and scratching and struggling, I am tied or strapped on my back to my bed. I am spreadeagled, and my arms and legs are forced just past the point of being comfortable. He has forced a pillow under my hips, and of course I am naked. The pillow has the effect of raising and exposing my vulva, and I can move only an inch or two up and down or from side to side. I am extremely panicky. I am pleading and begging and crying. He is never angry; he responds to me at all times as if I were an object, very matter of factly. He is fully clothed as he moves around checking the ropes to be sure they’re secure.

ME: Please let me go.

HIM: Not yet.

ME: If you let me go, I’ll suck you dry.

HIM: You’ll do that anyway, honey, in a minute or two.

ME: If you don’t let me go, you bastard, I swear I’ll never let you in my mouth again.

HIM: Yes you will, love.

ME: But I don’t want to be like this!

HIM: It really doesn’t matter what you want right now, honey.

ME: (Assorted obscenities, mixed with sobs and twisting at the ropes)

HIM: That’s enough. (All the time he’s very cool and calm.) 136

ME: My legs hurt, my arms ache, my crotch is splitting.

Please!

HIM: A little pain is good for you.

ME: (More obscenities)

HIM: Honey, stop that.

ME: (More obscenities)

He reaches out and pinches the inside of both my thighs, very hard.

HIM: You will be quiet now, darling, please.

ME: Yes. (Crying more from pain and rage)

He then leaves the room for what seems like hours, because of the strain on my arms and legs. When he returns he is nude and he has an enormous erection, which makes me whimper in anticipated pain. He doesn’t touch me. He kneels at the foot of the bed, gazing at my exposed vulnerable pubic area. I am utterly mortified, because I have no control now. I can’t shield myself or put my legs together or roll over. My whole crotch is so exposed and open to his eyes and mouth and/or penis. I’m totally at his mercy. I keep saying, "What are you going to do to me?" and he just sits there. Then the fantasy takes one of several courses.

Sometimes he loves me all over with his mouth, until I beg him to enter me. Sometimes he enters me without foreplay and seemingly just takes me as if I’m nothing. Sometimes he enters my mouth, from above, which I hate because of the control he has and the gagging depth he can achieve. (In real life, I love performing fellatio, but only when I’m above him, so I can keep it shallow.) Whatever he does, the fantasy ends with him releasing me and hugging me and massaging my sore muscles and my sobbing with relief and
thanking
him – not for letting me go, but for tying me up!

This second fantasy is extremely fascinating to me, although both ideas really turn me on. I’ve just recently added this one to my repertoire, but it isn’t quite as powerful as the other. It goes as 137

follows: I manage to tie him to the bed, spread-eagled exactly as I was. This is done by some sort of "innocent" playfulness, like,

"Honey, show me how to tie that knot. Oh, I see. Let me try …"

and so on. When he realizes he’s been tricked, he reacts with rage and fear, much as I did in my second fantasy. As a matter of fact, we pretty much change roles – he’s helpless and scared, while I’m cool and matter of fact. He doesn’t cry, of course, but he feels, if anything, more vulnerable, exposed, and helpless than I did, because of his absolute inability to protect his genitals.

Usually in this fantasy I just start out kissing him ever so gently, all over, gradually working down to his pelvis, and then up inside his thighs, just tantalizing him. I avoid all contact with, his penis or testicles, but just keep on caressing and licking, etc., until he begs me to touch his genitals. But I delay until he’s really in a frenzy before doing so, and even then I hardly touch himI just keep up the teasing, tantalizing, etc., until he can’t take it any more. Then I either suck him till he comes in my mouth or I have him climax in my vagina. Occasionally, during the. tantalizing, nongenital phase, when he seems to relax and give himself up to me, I put a little fear back into him by giving him a painful nip or pinch inside his thighs. Usually, though, I am just gentle and loving. I never threaten his genitals, nor do I hurt him there unless he asks me to bite him, which in real life he likes.