An anonymous reader writes:
I want to tell you about my dirtiest, darkest fantasy. Right now I’m
laying in bed. My panties are soaking wet and my stomach aches because
I just went through it all in my head and I’m so dangerously turned
on. But I decided I’d have to tell you about it first before I’m allowed
to do anything about the river between my legs.
It begins in a very clinical place. I’ve been captured and brought to some place, bright, light and white. I awake in a room and a very
kind person (their gender irrelevant) is washing me. I am naked.
They notice I’m awake and begin a thorough examination, they
explain that I am here to serve a purpose. During these tests I am not
allowed to cum. I am fingered and toyed with objects of various
shapes, lengths and textures – in my ass, vagina, mouth, on my nipples and clitoris. Finally I am set onto a machine and made to ride and
ride, whilst many people are watching and taking notes, until I’m sure
I’m about to burst.
When they see I can stand it no longer I’m led into a chamber of
complete darkness. Cleansed of my great dampness, dressed in a thin
nightgown and tied to a bed so I cannot relieve myself. I fall asleep.
In the fog of dreams and reality I am visited by an incubus. I can’t
see anything but there are hands everywhere. It is warm and there are
I’m soon soaked again. I am filled and emptied repeatedly all while the most salacious things are whispered in my ear. The demon hisses, warning me not to cum. In
that darkness I’m untied and made to ride the bedpost (yeah, I’ve come a
long way since boarding school). I can’t help myself. The cool of the
bulbous metal bedpost, the ache in my calves, the flicking of the
demon’s tongue on my clit, the hands on boobs, in my mouth… and I cum.
Loudly, painfully, shaking the bed as I do…
of the heat and whispers rush away at once. And I am left in the silent
darkness dripping on my bedpost wondering what comes next. I broke their
one rule. After several heartbeats I am hoisted off the post and guided onto a
decorative hook adorning the bottom of the bedframe. My ass is high in the chill air, my feet can barely touch the floor, my face rests on the mattress,
my vagina penetrated by the curve of the hook.
I wait. But nothing happens. I squirm enjoying the hook against my g-spot. I stupidly
think perhaps I’ve been disqualified and will simply be allowed to satisfy
myself. The mattress creaks as I rock forcing the curve further inside
me. Then out of nowhere. A hand is on my ass. A finger following the hook into my heat.
I hear a growl of disgust. The incubus has returned. I sense he is displeased
by my wetness. I feel breath between my cheeks. My dripping slit is
sucked clean around the protrusion penetrating me. For the first time I
allow myself to be swallowed by humiliation. He hisses into my ear that I
should have obeyed my warning. I would have known pleasure like no
other if I had but now, there would be pain.
It begins. Slowly. A caress. A harder slap. Something is plunged into
the unfilled hole between my cheeks and I’m filled with fiery pain.
Clenching provides no relief. There is a cock in my mouth. Sharp fingers
pinch my nipples. The curve of the hook seems less pleasurable now, yet still I gush. The hand lays a volley of hard smacks and with each I’m forced further onto the hook of the bed. My legs kicking. I’m sucked dry. After a
couple more minutes, fear tears through me as I soak myself, and worry
what will happen if I cum again.
Heat builds as each beat fills me with pain, that’s soon overtaken by pleasure. I
resolve to hold on to my dignity. This time I will not disobey. His slaps
turn again to caresses. I am lifted. My ass, mouth and crotch are
emptied. He places me gently on the bed. I face his though it is too
dark to see. He spreads my legs. His impossibly long tongue snakes
inside me. My nipples are nibbled, my mouth is filled. I hear the sound
of a match. A sulphurous smell. A nearby candle flickers into life.
Now, I see him. He is both beautiful and ugly. I also see that we’re not alone.
There is a hoard. One has his thick cock in my mouth. One has my
nipples between his pointed teeth. Another slips his tongue from my
slit. A pair are holding apart my legs. The candle he holds is thick. I
see immediately what he means to do with it, and I begin to squirm. I
am pulled until I face him with my other set of lips.
He holds my back with one hand as the other slides the immense candle
into my waiting depths. Searing wax drips onto my freshly shaved mound.
He says something I do not understand, I am helpless, able only to lie there, gazing into
his burning eyes as I’m ravaged by his hoard.
Later, I am led naked down a long hallway glimpsing
through each passing doorway a different creature defiling a human being
in a myriad of ways. A hoard of small winged beasts are buzzing inside
the crotch of a redhead. A mammoth creature is nearly splitting a raven
haired girl with his slimy tentacle. A double-dicked man-dog is fucking
Then depending on my mood I imagine the monster I am led to. And what he
does to me. All while being watched by the demon. I am rewarded by his
candle when I do right, and spanked harshly in the darkness when I displease.
One day though, I hope I will earn his cock.
Now if you’ll excuse me… I have
something to attend to…
Thank you, dear reader, for this wonderful submission!
I do love reading the fantasies of others, especially those written whilst aroused. Sitting in soaked, sticky panties, words flowing rapidly from your fevered mind to your fingertips, knowing that soon you’ll be finished, and you’ll be able to relieve the ache between your legs. It’s an exquisite kind of denial, like writing an essay in detention, whilst still on a spanked bottom you’re desperate to rub.
Your post brings to mind the fantastical imaginings of Hieronymus Bosch, dark visions of infernal punishment performed by demons and surreal chimeras. I liked how you were rewarded in the light, but disciplined in the dark. You seem to be in some erotic purgatory, slowly discovering how obedience and sexual submissiveness will lead you to the light.
I enjoy darkly gothic fantasies, a theme I’ve written about in several previous stories, like Fall and Stolen Essence. The idea that eroticism is a dark and mighty magic, with the power to bend reality. Which, in a sense, it is.
So I hope you’ll continue to visit the demon in your imagination, dear reader. Your lust may yet reveal the true nature of you both. That angels and demons are just labels we use. That one can not live without the other. That being violated and defiled, or ravished and pleasured involve exactly the same physical sensations. Are they really monsters, or just new lovers in crude and unfamiliar forms?
Your imagination grants access to boundless possibilities.
And if others would like to share their own fantasies with your fellow readers, please do. Feel free to submit or email (spankingtheatre at gmail dot com)
Weird. Dirty. Perverted. They’re just words used by the timid.