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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Dark Fantasy Trilogy
by Kinkabella (kinkabella@gmail.com)
***
This short tale began as a letter from a submissive
woman to her Mistress to explain one of her darkest
dreams. It hints at non-consensual desires including
forced submission, group sex, and bdsm, however the
subject matter is dealt with more from an intellectual
perspective than a physical one. As such it is explicit
but hopefully in an imaginative way and without the
usual pornographic story cliches. (MMF, reluc, rom, bd)
***
Dark Fantasy Trilogy: Prelude To A Dream
"To sleep, perchance to dream..."
There is a fringe group within my local BDSM club scene
known colloquially as 'The Roundabout Gang'. This group
of twenty or so men and women, besides being members of
the BDSM club I belong to, are also members of a
swinger's club in town. When they attend functions at
the BDSM club they will arrive en masse later in the
night and don't usually mingle much with other members.
Ever since it was first pointed out to me who this
group was, I got the feeling of a very strong 'Us and
Them' attitude prevalent. The view of those in the 'Us'
group seemed to be that 'Them' (The Roundabout Gang)
didn't play by any of the unwritten but inherently
established 'rules' of BDSM engagement - the whole
'Safe, Sane and Consensual' credo often being cited.
While I used to sit and silently listen to discussions
like this, I did get the distinct impression many in
the 'Them' group looked at 'Us' as being so orthodox in
our views as to be almost as bad, if not worse than
anybody in the Vanilla world - a world generally agreed
by both 'Us' and 'Them' as a place from which we all
wanted to escape.
I enjoyed playing the BDSM games of the 'Us' group and
felt comforted to be accepted as a part of that scene
and its small rebellion from the Vanilla world I had
long felt trapped in. However, as much as I felt
comforted by the acceptance of my friends in the 'Us'
group, I also felt rejected in equal amounts by 'Them'.
It's difficult to put into words how this made me feel.
I supposed the simplest explanation is I am a person
who has always felt insecure unless I had the
acceptance of everybody. I have an innate desire to
make everybody happy and most of all, the people who
probably care for me least.
In short, I felt myself slipping deeper and deeper into
a dark and lonely crevice between the two groups, much
like the divide I by now felt separating me from the
Vanilla world I'd once known. More than this, the
'invisibility' that used to stalk me and withhold the
acceptance I craved in the Vanilla world had followed
me into my BDSM world and it felt like nobody noticed
or cared that I was falling from view.
Themes of abandonment are strong in my darkest
fantasies. In this particular fantasy, as I look up the
ragged walls of the emotional ravine I've slipped into,
I see my husband and our kinkster friends above. They
stand on the edge of the precipice with their backs to
me. I can at times hear them chatting and laughing; at
other times, speaking ponderously about the nature of
dominance and submission or making inane judgment calls
on things that might define people into their neat,
tidy compartments.
At the top on the other side of this imagined abyss
stand many men and women from The Roundabout Gang. None
of their faces are really clear except for those of
Julienne and her husband, Mike. In the past, whenever I
saw them at the club, they always seemed to studiously
avoid me as if my connection with the BDSM club and my
friends in it branded me a pariah to 'Them'. Now, as I
struggle before them so clearly in need of some kind of
lifeline, their faces beam with wicked delight.
A rope ladder is thrown down to me. I see it right
beside me within easy reach. All I have to do is grab
hold of it and climb out of the darkness -- to be
rescued. It's a choice I have to make and one that
frightens me. Below me, if I don't accept the escape
offered, is the certainty of plummeting into the
blackness of oblivion.
Above me, the hands I see all calling me to grab hold
of the ladder are the hands of strangers who I am sure
would rather rape me than rescue me. But it's still my
choice and mine alone to make. I look one last time
toward the other side of the emptiness for any signs of
a third choice, but there is none. The edge on which my
husband and friends once stood has receded from sight;
the sounds of their voices now nothing more than
distant echoes.
This might be all a dream except for the fact I fear
any awakening before it's complete will leave me lost
in the limbo it has conjured. I grab hold of the ladder
and slowly begin my ascent. Or is it a descent? I'm
climbing but at the same time there is a sensation of
falling still deeper.
My mind is reeling just as Alice's had when she fell
into the rabbit hole portal to Wonderland. Things that
were up are now down; big becomes small and the
trivial, profound. My clothes fall away from me as I
struggle in the direction of The Roundabout Gang. I can
sense the energy of the conversations they're having.
They're animated and filled with the sound of
excitement, but nothing is clear to me and all I can
hear is babble.
As I near the top of the ladder, the hands that clawed
the air reaching for me now have hold around my wrists.
They are the large hands of strong men and I feel
myself being lifted from the beyond. Or maybe they're
the hands of women? My eyes are fully open but I can't
see anything clearly. I'm completely naked by the time
I'm lifted clear of the abyss. More hands grab hold of
me. The only faces I can clearly identify are those of
Julienne and Mike.
She is saying something; I can't make out the words. I
look at Mike's face and try to fathom what is being
said. His mouth is moving too, but I can't hear
anything. There's just the sound of my own pulse
pounding rapidly and loudly in my ears. It's as if my
head has been trapped inside an invisible cocoon. A
blindfold is slipped over my head and I am plunged into
total darkness - a frightening darkness.
The last thing I can remember seeing is a glimpse of
the inside of a large room. It's a room I've been in
once before. A few years ago, when The Roundabout Gang
had a BDSM night at their club and a few of 'Us' went
along, just out of curiosity. Nothing happened there
that wouldn't have happened at any of our regular club
nights, but I spent the entire evening wondering 'what
if?'
Back then, I had felt free to dream my dark dreams
because I was safely surrounded by my familiar kinkster
friends. Now, as yet more hands of unfamiliar strangers
grab hold of my ankles to carry me somewhere, I feel no
such envelope of safety.
I struggle and cry out, but no sounds penetrate the
invisible bubble surrounding my head. Outside that
bubble is the sound of a crowd of people. I can
scarcely hear what they're saying above the din of the
loud, pulsating music that fills their club, but I'm
convinced it is talk of the perverse things they intend
doing to me. I can feel fingers penetrating my vagina
and then laughter. I'm suddenly acutely aware of my own
wetness and the aroma of my arousal. The embarrassing
assault on my senses causes my face and ears to burn.
The hands on my wrists and ankles hold me spread and
vulnerable as I'm carried through their club. I am
totally disorientated in the darkness of my blindfold,
but instincts tell me I'm being taken to one of the
private rooms at the back of building. They're rooms I
remember overhearing somebody talk about that one night
earlier when my kinkster friends and I had visited
their club. I never got the chance to actually see
inside any of them, but heard enough to know it was
where The Roundabout Gang 'initiated' all the new
swingers.
The very word itself - initiate - sent a chill down my
spine. There was no doubt in my mind what was meant by
it. I would be taken into one of those back rooms and
gangbanged, probably restrained as well so I couldn't
escape until everybody who wanted to use me had done
so. And so begins my darkest fantasy...
-=0=-
Dark Fantasy Trilogy: Manifestation Of A Dream
"Henceforward I am ever ruled by you." -- Juliet
(Shakespeare)
You want to know what turned me on most about revealing
my darkest fantasy? It was that moment when I first
heard you ask whether I'd tell you a secret. Right then
and there, in an infinitesimal moment, it was as if
you'd already glimpsed all my deepest, darkest
fantasies bottled up within me. After that, all that
remained for me to do was loosen the cork so the dark
genie of truth within my soul could escape.
From that day on, I lived with an ever-increasing
paradoxical sense of both release and tension. The dark
fantasies that lurked in my heart were finally being
drawn out and this gave me a sense of relief after such
a long time of struggling to keep them contained. But
at the same time was the tension and anxiety of the
date you'd set.
I had marked it discreetly on my kitchen calendar with
a simple and almost imperceptible black dot on a Friday
- the same Friday that was notable for being the
beginning of a weekend that husband and family would
all be away leaving me alone to act out the fantasy I
revealed to you.
There was many times leading up to that Friday when I
felt compelled to tell somebody else besides you about
what was planned. It was a desperate need and yet,
every time I came close to confessing I felt the
invisible hand of my fantasy genie pull me back.
Outwardly, I must have looked as normal as ever and
never once displayed any signs of the inner turmoil
that gripped me.
On the morning of that fateful Friday, I even laughed
uneasily when the usual jokes were made about it being
a thirteenth - lucky for some, unlucky for others.
I sat in my car for a long while before summoning that
final amount of courage to make my way up the stairs to
The Roundabout Club. Julienne and her husband Mike
didn't seem surprised to see me but they remained
slightly indifferent until I explained I was alone and
wanting to join their club. My hands trembled as I
wrote my details onto a membership form.
I can't even begin to describe how I felt when I
finally had to complete my application by paying to
proceed. The realization that it wasn't enough for me
to simply be there willing to surrender myself to any
pervert who might want to use me for their sexual
pleasure. I had to pay for it with my own hard-earned
cash, as if it was a bizarre kind of prostitution in
reverse.
Other club members had drifted in with a few stopping
to ogle me. I vaguely recognized a few people, but most
were strangers. Mike had one of them strip me right
there in the foyer of the club, blindfold me, and then
collar me so I could be led on a leash into the main
area of the club.
I was led to a booth within the club and locked inside,
alone. A voice from outside told me to remove the
blindfold, which I did, and I was confronted by a
number of disembodied, half erect men's cocks dangling
in through holes cut in the walls of the booth. It
would be my 'function as the club's newest service
slave', I was told, to suck and pleasure them all and
not to allow any of them to ejaculate on the floor.
I glanced around expecting to see a towel or something,
but the small cubicle was empty except for me. The size
of the confined space was such I was able to bend over
and take one cock in my mouth while another penetrated
me from behind. My hands held and gently massaged cocks
that presented through holes in the walls either side
of me. And this is how I spent the rest of the night.
I swallowed lots and lots of filthy, anonymous jism
that night but even so, my misjudged timing of when
some would cum meant many ejaculated into my pussy
(which then leaked it messily onto the floor) or
spurted in from the sides into my hands and over my
body. All-in-all, it was the most perverse and
degrading thing I could possibly imagine happening and
I'm still left with a lingering guilt over the dark
secret pleasure I felt while doing it.
-=0=-
Dark Fantasy Trilogy: Voyage To Elsewhere And Beyond
"You remember that place between sleep and awake, where
you can still remember dreaming? That's where you'll
find me..."
I love that quote. It's paraphrased from something
Tinkerbell said in the movie 'Hook' and it resonates
deeply in me. Daydreams are like that magical place,
and I daydream constantly. So, when you asked whether I
had to search deeply to find my darkest fantasy story,
the answer is a resounding no.
You asked whether it's the only fantasy I have, and the
answer to that is also no, although I admit it's one
that does frequently get looped in my mind's eye.
However, it's one thing to have these fantasies
swirling around in the erotic whirl of my daydreams but
quite another to commit them to paper.
I'm not a big reader of 'pop psychology' books that
claim to offer the means to achieve everything from
growing rich to understanding the cosmic beyond, but I
do give some credence to the idea that the first step
to making any dream come true is to write it down. That
said, you first asked me to share a dark, secret
fantasy with you, and the idea of this tantalized me.
The delight wasn't simply in the fact I might share
something so intimate and personal as an embarrassing
secret fantasy, although this was a factor. A large
part of the pleasure for me was in knowing by writing
it down I was in fact taking the first step toward
making my dark secret fantasy a reality, whether I
wanted it to become real or not.
Why would I want to do that? Could it really be true I
actually want this fantasy to become real - to be
stripped completely and forced into a situation where I
might be humiliated in such a perverted and disgusting
way? Obviously, the thought has been in my mind for a
long time, otherwise the fantasy wouldn't exist to
begin with. The mere fact that it does exist at all is
enough evidence for even the most amateur of observers
to think it's true and my defense of it, by guarding it
as a secret, confirms the truth beyond doubt.
As I sit here contemplating all this, I am aroused by
the thought that confessing this secret to you requires
me to trust you'll guard my secret as closely as I have
guarded it. But what reason could I have to trust you
at all? I mean, you're a total stranger and yet I am
trusting with a small piece of information about me
that nobody else on Earth knows.
Perhaps I can rationalize it by pretending you don't
really exist at all, except in the ether of the
Internet, just as my fantasy now exists there. This
delusion might hold true for a while, but deep down,
just as I know my secret desire to be real, so too are
you.
In a sense I feel my fantasy has not simply been
released like the genie from the lamp, but that it has
been projected onto you. When it had been bottled up
inside me, I still had some control over it but now?
Now, my fantasy and by extension, my reality is in your
hands and outside my control.
Control is a word I hear a lot whenever anybody talks
about dominance and submission. Many scene people will
also talk about submission as being some kind of 'gift'
that the submissive offers and that the dominant
treasures. Perhaps I'm blithely revealing yet another
dark secret of mine but for me, I am most aroused when
I think of my control not simply being offered to
somebody else as a gift, but to surrender it as one
might do to a conquering victor. To throw myself
completely at the mercy of them and abandon all hope,
just as in the warning Dante had seen before entering
the first Circle of Hell.
Of course, all that really exists right now is the
truth of my darkest fantasy and the trust I have you'll
guard my secret. Neither is really significant on its
own and unless a third element is added, the two might
just as well not exist at all. To reveal the third
element is to come full circle again and expose yet
more truth about my darkest fantasy. That third element
is 'betrayal' that could manifest in something
tangible, such as your using your position of trust to
blackmail me, or something more intangible such as fate
or, to coin a favorite word of mine, 'serendipity'.
By definition, serendipity is 'the act of making
fortunate discoveries by accident'. Your discovery of
my darkest desires could be said to be serendipitous,
but that still isn't enough to explain how you came to
make that discovery in the first place. It could never
have been made unless I took the first step to lead you
to that discovery. A longer, more poetic definition can
be drawn from this quote, taken from John Barth's book
'The Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor (The Sinbad
Adventure)':
"You don't reach Serendip by plotting a course for it.
You have to set out in good faith for elsewhere and
lose your bearings serendipitously."
The notion of a life led without direction but full of
serendipitous surprises is one that appeals to me
deeply. Then again, maybe all this is now falling back
into the realms of daydreams and the romantic notion
that you will guard the secret I have shared with you.
To do this overlooks the fact of what you asked me to
do with my fantasy story, after I had written it down.
You said I should print it out on a single sheet of
paper, fold that paper to a small size, and then bury
it somewhere. More than this, I had to bury it in a
place where I might walk past it every day - a symbolic
reminder of the dark, unfathomable desires that occur
in my dreams. If this wasn't enough to send shivers of
tingly delight through every nerve ending in my body,
you concluded by asking how I felt about knowing it is
there, in your words, "like a part of you waiting to be
found?"
Well, I not only buried my story as instructed, but I
enclosed it in an airtight small plastic capsule. Thus
buried (in a pot plant at a coffee shop I frequently
visit at lunch times) it lies preserved like a time
capsule and will remain in a pristine condition
awaiting that moment of serendipity when somebody else,
on their own personal voyage to elsewhere, might find
it.
The End
(c) 2005 by kinkabella@gmail.com (Personal Blog -
http://slave802120.blogspot.com/)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 37