The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies (69 page)

My fantasy man is always the same one, a man I have never met and cannot describe the image of him, but I know how he is, how he feels, what he wants. He is sure of himself, with a lot of self
respect and respected, sensitive, and all he wants is to live for me and fulfill all my desires, be my complete slave.

I have many fantasies with him; the one I am presenting now is one of my favourites as it shows him apologizing and grovelling. This one goes:

To be Mine

I call him from work and let him know that I am looking forward to getting home and finding him ready for me. I know that he realized the call was from me and he felt that
slight tremor inside him, an excitement immediately recalling his submission.

“And, by the way, I need to talk to you seriously tonight.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he would whisper with a trembling note, knowing that that sentence meant that he must have done something that needed correction.

He would come home early and get himself ready and in position. Since we were leaving together he had to have his work done in time to be home before me. As I open the door he takes my
briefcase, puts it away and follows me to the living room where he kneels, taking off my shoes, massaging my feet, my glass of wine ready. I breathe deeply and relax, letting his feeling of
submission grow, feeling it in the intensity of his massage, in the way his whole body expresses it by the perfect form, correct position of his feet, the way he holds them and the veneration I
feel as he lowers to suck my toes and continue with the massage.

I snap my fingers for him to stand for inspection. He stands, legs separated, straight, pushing his nipples out, hands on his head, face straight ahead. I like him to have a slight erection if
not a full one. This evening it is a shy one, which makes him more nervous. He is trying to take sideways looks at me, checking for my anger, feeling humble.

He is totally shaved for me, from head to toes . . . all of him. I check for any hair on his body as he must keep himself this way. His balls are hanging with the clamp-on weights he has to
wear; I want them to hang low. I make them swing a little, hearing him gasp. As I touch his nipples they harden quickly, as trained, and he is wearing his chastity belt. I move to his back and ask
him to bend over. I put on plastic gloves which make a distinct sound and, lubricating my fingers, insert two; he is open and clean. I pick the butt plug he is to wear tonight and slowly push it
in, it always makes his knees quiver but he knows that this is only in preparation for what is to come. He is ready. All my toys are out and easily available.

After I am done he places his hands on his back and, lowering his face, begins his apology.

“Mistress, I have done, or not done, something that has upset you. Please will you correct me now or would you prefer later?”

I walk around him, letting the tension built up in him. His mind roams, looking for his fault, apprehensive about my next actions.

“I expected you to fall on your knees as soon as I got home and recognized your wrong-doing. It is understood that you must announce your misdeeds and ask for punishment. You have not even
acknowledged your fault. I am very surprised.”

He kneels. “Mistress, please forgive my lack, for which I have just increased your anger and my punishment; I beg to be told so I completely grovel at your feet, asking for your mercy.
Please, my Mistress, correct your slave.”

He is visibly perturbed and willing to be humbled and be called to his place, to stand corrected.

I love to hear my slave apologize; I have taught him a ritual. To recognize the misdeed, preferably explaining his own deficient thought that led to it, to confess and say how wrong it was, to
ask for forgiveness and beg for punishment and atonement and then promise that it will not happen again. After the punishment he will thank me again and then we will have a tender moment by me
taking him in my arms making him feel better, while he is still contrite and making up. He is mine and only my wellbeing counts.

“I am tired, had a long day today, but I cannot go on like this, cannot tolerate your lack of training! I was told that yesterday at lunch a lady came into the restaurant you were in, with
a lowcut blouse and a very nice body. You seemed to have lusted after her, even bending a little on your chair and the chastity must have bitten on your erection. This I was told by friends that
were there. If you are going to embarrass me in this fashion, I think you should move out of my house.”

He prostrates himself to the floor.

“Amanece, Mistress, punish me hard. I will take all, but please do not tell me to leave. I did look at the woman and had a problem with an erection. Mistress, I have no excuse. I know you
are very generous at taking me out of my chastity and letting me masturbate, even you doing it yourself, up to the point of almost coming, every day. I know I am only allowed to come, if you wish,
every three months and that it has been two months and three weeks without coming; in this manner you keep me correctly aroused for your use. I know I must not look at another woman, and never in a
lusting fashion. I should have averted my eyes, especially at this point when my penis is so out of control, as I am a week away from you permitting me to come. I promise you I will not embarrass
you again. Please punish me harshly for this and let me display the marks, so that people will see that I was corrected. Please forgive me, permit me to atone. You are the only woman that matters
to me. I know I should have remembered this and admitted it to you as soon as it happened; I have been wrong.”

He was squirming like a worm on the floor while saying these words. He knew that I must be very mad.

“Get me the belt that hangs in the living room.”

He crawled out and came back with the belt on his mouth and, prostrating himself on the floor, offered it to me with extended hands.

“Position!”

He got on all fours, shoulders to the floor and arse in the air, and received fifty strokes. Every stroke pushed the butt plug deeper, his face rubbing the floor. I have a strong hand and the
belt was thick. I hit him on the arse and thighs and legs, so that when he wore shorts friends would see the mark.

“Stand.”

I took off the chastity. His penis came to erection immediately it became free, in spite of the hurt. He started trembling, seeing me so close, feeling so humbled, wanting to appease me.

“You will hump the floor every night for a month without coming after I caress and excite you. Maybe this will let you know that what you must concentrate on at all times is to be able to
stand the three months until I let you come. That this is my wish and, if you are mine, you are to obey me.”

“Yes, Mistress, as you say.”

I came close to him and started kissing him. He separated his lower body from mine so his erect penis would not touch and offend me, but I grabbed his arse and pushed him to me, rubbing against
him. He moaned and I continued kissing and licking his neck, caressing his back, his nipples.

“Mistress, please, I am about to come. Please have mercy on me and let me back up so I do not shame myself offending you, please.”

I pulled his hair, bending his head back, opened his lips with my fingers.

“It will be such a hard month, slave.”

I separated from him, letting him quiver and forcing his desire to subside. I held him in my arms, caressing his hair, as he convulsed.

He was on his best behaviour after the correction; he served my dinner, walked along the beach with me although his basketball team was playing that night, without even mentioning it, came home
and gave me a bath then a massage. He stood kneeling beside the tub while he bathed my body with a sponge, rinsing me later and, when I finally stepped out, drying me totally. His body was sweating
and quivering from the excitement of having me so close and he was so aroused. I touched him briefly while letting him attend to me and during the massage my body relaxed in his hands. Whenever he
came close to touching my nipples or my cunt lips, he would murmur: “May I, please?” before I permitted him.

“I want you to massage my cunt with your face and bald head.” He closed his lips as he knew it wouldn’t involve using his tongue until permitted, it was just rubbing, first the
head, then lowering his whole face to his chin, back and forth, then letting his nose tease my clit until told to stop or to use his tongue. By then his face would be filled with my juices and my
smell impregnated his head. Involuntarily he would start whimpering.

“You will wake me up in this fashion every morning and when I feel satisfied you will come to my side and lift a little your leg so I can play with your balls and penis. I will wear my
strap-on, which is on top of my night table, and use your arsehole as a pussy, until I come. Then you would be left alone. I imagine your penis fighting the chastity with the erection, but you will
be left wanting, in remembrance of all the women in the past that were used by men and then left, just like you will be left. Every morning, this will be your ritual.”

His excitement only grew and he would fold over from the pain and beg (I love to hear him beg). “Please, Mistress, may I offer you my insignificant balls so you can enjoy slapping them so
my erection will subside. You will be so generous if you will permit me to relax by inflicting pain, please, I beg you. I know I deserve to be like this, doubling over in excitement at your feet,
at your whim. It will be a very difficult month that I have earned with my reproachable behaviour, but I beg you, just tonight, let my balls and my penis relax. I beg you, wonderful Mistress, my
only star, my Goddess, I beg.”

“All right, I will grant you this, but I will tie you so you remain in place until I am done, yes?”

“Yes, Mistress, as you wish. Thank you, thank you.”

I tied his wrists and ankles to the bed frame and made his head comfortable, as he would be jerking.

“Are you ready, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“With your eyes open!”

I showed him my open hand and brought it to his lips; he kissed it tenderly and eagerly. His penis was still fighting to get our of its cage. I started hitting him in his balls in a constant
rhythm and the slaps made him jerk and moan; his eyes watered but he mouthed “thank you” repeatedly. I stopped long after his penis had almost disappeared, bringing my hand again to his
lips and this time waiting for his gratitude in a flourish manner. Crying, he did this. By now, he was exhausted. I untied his hands and took his balls and tied them, having both ends tied to where
his ankles were. He knew what I was doing. Frightened, he begged:

“Please, Mistress, please, let my ankles remain untied; I am so frightened of moving and cutting my balls.”

“Ah . . . but you won’t, and tomorrow morning I expect good service, so you will untie yourself and begin before I awake. Good night, my love, my slave.”

I kissed him gently but let him rest, afraid of arousing him again. He had gone almost three months and now had to wait one more. I remember when I used to masturbate him at least three times a
day and made him come; now it was when I permitted, although his erection was a must and was his service. I had to have available at all times, a hard penis to mount, to tease, even to mouth, but
one that knew there would be no relief until I wished.

I woke up in the middle of the night; he was fast asleep, carefully lowered so the rope tying his balls to the bed posts would not pull. I took off his chastity; he woke up and looked at me. I
just had to touch his penis and it sprang hard in a minute. I smiled while I raised over his body. I brought my cunt to his face and lowered it, rubbing it up and down; his lips closed, waiting for
my decision. I continued to lower myself until I was over his penis; just the head I got inside. He moaned loud, his balls were hard and he felt it tighten more around the rope as I moved up and
down.

“Mistress, I want you so badly, I am so hot, as horny as a bitch in heat, please . . . have mercy.”

I pushed down a bit more and continued humping him, making love to myself. He could hardly move with his balls tied.

“How much longer, my love? Tell me, how much longer do you have to wait?”

“Until you wish, maybe a month and a week more if I behave, Mistress, until you say.”

“Yes, much better. You know where you are standing and what is good for you, right, slave?” I kept talking while I continued to make love to myself using his hard rod.

“Oh yes, my Goddess.”

“I am feeling oral.”

I moved out of him and lowered my head to his penis. Feeling my cold mouth tighten around his hot penis made him scream with pleasure.

“Mistress, please, I cannot take it. I will come. Please”.

“How dare you say this. What are you supposed to say when this happens?”

“Yes, yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress, I beg you to slap my hurting balls so my penis knows that it just exists to pleasure you and he must be of service always. Please let my balls feel
the pain of my lack of control. Please.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Again I played the ritual, the showing of my hand, taking it to his lips, his eyes closing to the surrendering of what was to come and the slapping. This time, just twice, as I wanted to
continue playing.

“Please, Mistress, I am ready to be used. Thank you for not letting me shame myself again.”

The next morning, he untied his balls and enticingly and softly climbed up to me, I quivered in my sleep and let him continue to caress me as told, careful not to be abrupt, attentive to every
movement I did. As I opened my legs to him he let his head fall and caressed me with it. He was careful not to hurt me as I had used him for so long last night, stopping several times to correct
his demanding erection but continuing with my pleasure. He knew my lips must be sore, so he was delicate.

“You may lick.”

His tongue became wide and hard as he softly passed it over my whole cunt lips and, as he felt my tension, it narrowed so it would flick on my clit, never allowing any saliva to make me wetter,
just keeping the right moisture, which was my moisture only.