Darkest Fantasies Read online

  Kevin felt hands pulling at his shirt. He tried to wake himself from the strangest lethargy he had ever felt, but could not. Dimly he heard a voice he had never heard before, one filled with the harsh ring of authority.

  'Don't try to speak, slave, just listen and obey my voice. You've been a naughty boy, gadding about with lots of other women, and your mistress is going to put a stop to all that, do you hear? Now, push yourself on to your feet. Come on! Get on with it, I can't lift you on my own!'

  Kevin vaguely recognised the voice of authority, and made an effort to assist, not that he was aware of what he did. Esther had learned how to inflect her voice with just the quality that would make a man jump to her bidding; Madam had been quite thorough in her teachings.

  Slowly he gained his feet, but could not quite focus his mind. His eyes wouldn't quite seem to open, but he felt himself clamber into a car, and heard the engine cough into life. The motion of the car began to send him to sleep. Bloody hell, he was tired. She was right, whoever she was; he really should have more respect for Esther, only he just couldn't seem to stop himself going after the other women. It was the excitement factor. Damn, he couldn't think straight. What was the matter with him? He didn't know where he was or where he was going, and couldn't recall which of his flings this was, but if she thought he was going to get it up tonight, she was going to be very disappointed; he needed to sleep.

  The car stopped. Esther was alarmed when he began to snore. 'Not yet,' she snapped. 'Stand up! No, don't fall. Move forward! That's right. Hang in there! Keep moving. Two more steps. Good boy.'

  Then his knees began to buckle. 'Can't stand any more,' he slurred.

  'You can sit down now. Gently does it. There, the bed is behind you.'

  He flopped thankfully onto the softness of his bed. The voice was familiar somehow, yet he couldn't place it at all. It was most confusing, yet rather nice, in a way. The voice was authoritative, not allowing him to lie down, and he felt like a child again, being mothered. He felt gentle hands creep up his front, undoing his shirt button by button. He realised she was undressing him. Putting him to bed. Hands caressed the hairs on his chest. Vaguely interested, he tried to move his arms, but they were like lumps of iron glued to his sides.

  'Lean forward. Just a bit, whoa, not too far...' The shirt slid down over his shoulders and was gone. 'Now you can lie down.' He wavered thankfully and slumped onto his back. She lifted his feet, twisted his legs onto the bed, took his shoes off. Then her hands crept to his trousers, unbuckled his belt, unhooked the clasp. His hips moved fractionally in response to the feather-light touch of the zipper sliding down, and there was a faint stirring of interest from between his legs. But no - it didn't want to play again so soon. He vaguely recalled fucking Alicia, but what the hell had happened after that? He couldn't recall, but damn it felt good.

  'I don't think I can...' he tried to say, perturbed by his own inability. 'Too tired...'

  'No bother,' the woman whispered in a seductive voice. 'You don't need to do anything. Just relax, honey-bun. We'll do things later. Now, just lift your hips for me.'

  Honey-bun? Who the hell would call him honey-bun? The name caused a brief flutter of irritation, then he was being moved again. His trousers slid down over his feet and were gone. His pants went the same way. Then, as he lay there on the bed in this strange and unusual lethargy, to his surprise he began to have an erotic dream. He dreamed that soft hands upon his body were wrapping leather straps around his wrists and stretching his arms high, to almost unbearable tightness, and buckling them firmly to the bedhead. Chest expanded, feet tingling with suspense, he pulled at the bonds, but they were firm.

  A soft smile formed. Oh boy, he thought. Oh boy, don't wake me now. He sank deeper into sleep. Soft leather encompassed his ankles and his legs were parted and secured. He moaned and writhed with severe sensual pleasure as his dream woman tethered him fast for her pleasure. Oh boy, what a dream. Through his subconscious a faint embarrassment filtered, diminished the pleasure slightly. Blimey, what would Esther think of him if she knew? Still, there was no harm in dreaming, and what she didn't know couldn't... oh yes, hands were fondling him. His strained awareness was sucked instantly to that flaccid lump of flesh between his legs.

  Despite his lethargy and his inability to comprehend what had caused the strange dream, he felt his penis begin to expand, to fill those soft hands. It was the hands of an expert - the hands of a whore. Damn! but she knew where to rub. His penis got bigger and bigger, it throbbed, ached, swelled gloriously. She held his penis away from his navel with one firm hand, softly drew back the foreskin with the other, and began to make small circular motions with the palm of her hand on the tip of his throbbing knob.

  'Oh, baby,' he whispered. 'Oh, baby, do it to me, baby.' His imagination worked overtime. He thought of that waitress with big tits and imagined it was her sitting over him, fondling him, leaning her melon-sized boobs in his face, lifting her tiny skirt with nothing underneath... 'Do it,' he whispered. 'I'm ready. Do it to me, baby.'

  But to his irritation the hands left him and he gradually wilted. He struggled to open his eyes, but the dream had him locked in darkness. He wasn't sure whether his eyes were open or not, and although the strange lethargy began to fade and the cotton wool seemed to recede from his brain, he still found himself stretched unnaturally tightly in bonds which were surprisingly real. Suddenly frightened, his erection disappeared absolute. He tried desperately to wake himself, but he could not. Drifting in and out of sleep for a while, Kevin wasn't sure at what point he became sure he was not dreaming. The dream had long ago lost its drive, lost its eroticism, and he wanted out of it, only it wouldn't let go.

  Finally he woke up fully to the understanding that he was stretched out naked, strapped in a star shape on a metal bed by restraints made of thick padded leather which felt horribly serious. His penis had shrivelled completely. He whimpered. What if someone came and found him like this?

  His new consciousness told him he must have been drugged, and was no longer under the influence of whatever he'd been given. But somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled Esther making him a drink and going out. After that he had climbed in a car with some woman, but it was all so vague. Where the hell was he? He peered, but the darkness didn't diminish. It wasn't the darkness of night, it was simply the darkness of a place without light. A place with locks on the doors, with leather straps holding him firmly in place. He struggled, panicked by the unknown quantity of his situation, and to add to his discomfort, he was busting for a pee.

  What the hell was going on? Where was Esther? Did she realise he was gone? Was she even now calling the police? He imagined her at home, distraught, wondering where he was.

  His need to pee grew, and his fear grew. What did they want with him? What did who want with him? In the darkness he gyrated his wrists in the cuffs. They were tough, padded, and immovable. He shifted. Got his hands around stout chains. Was he a man, or what? So, he'd break the fucking bed. He pulled with all his not inconsiderable strength. He yanked, he pulled, he swore. Nothing gave. Nothing moved. He stopped, panted, and there was only one thing left to do.

  'Help?'

  It sounded pitiful, even to his ears, and his next cry was louder. 'Help!'

  Eventually his voice grew hoarse with calling, but no one came. Finally, having no choice, he allowed his aching muscles to relax and with a long sigh of satisfaction, relieved himself on the bed. It was a momentary relief followed by an even greater feeling of horror. What if someone came now and found him lying in a pool of his own urine?

  At long last a key grated in the lock. The door opened. The light was blinding. Kevin's eyes automatically shut, but not so soon that the woman's form was not burned with shocking intensity into his mind. He caught a fleeting image of thrusting bosom and rounded hips encased in something form-huggingly tight - something black with laces. She was a dark shadow sharply outlined in yellow light; she had an athletic body, and though she was wear
ing a mask he knew with absolute certainty that he had never met her in his life.

  Yet he'd seen pictures of women like that before, and the word that instantly came to mind was dominatrix.

  Despite his furious and panic-stricken attempts to stop the woman, she leaned over and encased his head in a mesh of straps that held a very efficient blindfold in place.

  The hands tested their work, and found it satisfactory. He writhed with fury in his bonds. 'Who are you?' he shrieked. 'What the fuck are you doing? Let me up before I kill you, you bitch!'

  He stopped yelling. There was no answer, but she moved. His ears homed in on soft sounds to his left. 'Who the fuck are you? What do you want with me?'

  The woman's voice was as he had expected, almost a whisper, low and husky. 'I want you, slave,' she informed him.

  He pulled angrily at the bonds, feeling scared, incredibly stupid and, in spite of himself, flattered. 'Well you can't have me! Now let me up, you bitch!'

  There was the fleeting hint of a whistle, and he screamed as pain bit across his upper thighs. 'Quiet, slave,' she said softly.

  Kevin whimpered slightly, shocked into near-silence by the throbbing pain. She hit him! The bitch had actually hit him! There was a long silence while he digested this amazing fact. 'Why...'

  'Shhhh...'

  He bit his lip, hearing a threat in the soft sound.

  He felt the sheet, or something, being pulled from underneath him. He was wiped like a baby, and then heard the sound of running water. 'Now lift your hips,' she commanded.

  'What're you doing?'

  A faint chuckle. 'Nothing terrible. I'm just going to clean you up. I need to put a towel under you so you don't mess my sheets.'

  Kevin scowled and didn't oblige. She could go to hell. He would enjoy pissing on her sheets, dammit. The unknown woman, however, merely took a handful of his exposed sexual organs and lifted. She had sharp nails. Up he arched, gasping with shock.

  'What you have to realise, slave,' she said informatively in her low voice, as she wound a warm soapy flannel between his legs, 'is that I own you. You do not have a name. You have no identity at all except in that you have to please me. And what you have to learn quickly,' she purred, 'is how to please me well.'

  'Fuck you!' he snapped.

  'Exactly,' she replied, giving him a congratulatory pat.

  'What?'

  'Fuck me. But so that it pleases me, not you. That little lump of flesh,' she flicked his penis disparagingly, 'belongs to me. As does the whole of this fine body. I may do with it what I will, and it will obey me.' Her breath purred on the words, and her nails raked softly and seductively down the length of his tense thigh muscles.

  'I'm Kevin Mellinton, not anybody's bloody slave, and I want out of here or I'll call the police,' he yelled.

  'You're a sex slave, here to serve faithfully until the day you die.'

  'I won't!'

  'Won't you?'

  'You can't make me.'

  'Can't I?'

  Kevin tensed, hearing movement, and discovered to his horror that he was afraid of her as he had never in his life before been afraid of anyone, let alone a woman. He felt the bed sag slightly as she climbed over him and knelt astride his body, knees outside his hips, feet inside his thighs. Everything went tight with panic. He couldn't breath. Then he gasped as a cool trickle of liquid slid unexpectedly onto his chest and she began to rub it in.

  Very, very gently, she traced circles around his tense chest muscles, merely spreading the oil. Then she kneaded, pushed, and rubbed them into submission with slick fingers. She rolled his nipples between her fingertips, then worked her way downward until she had covered every exposed area, and in spite of himself he knew he was enjoying the experience, that his body was tuning in to her sexuality; relaxing outwardly, but pulsing deep inside with vibrant sexual need. As she leaned over his body with those expert and strong fingers that danced so erotically, he felt the warmth of her breath across his mouth. Then she slid forward to nuzzle him beneath his chin, up the side of his face, in his ear. Oh, the soft weight of her breast hung against his sensitised skin, moving the hairs of his chest with the subtlety of a summer's breeze.

  His penis swelled. It was impossible to stop it. He groaned with annoyance, pleasure, fear, and anger at her easy manipulation of him, but when his rising prick encountered softness, wetness and warmth, it hardened instantly into a thrusting tool.

  She didn't lower herself onto him, though. She teased, and he felt the contractions of her vagina fluctuate against the tip of his penis then slide away again and again. 'Oh, God,' he said hoarsely. 'If you're going to do it, bloody-well do it! Don't just piss about!'

  'I am doing it,' she replied softly. He groaned. 'I'm pleasing myself. You're just the slave upon which I'm choosing to do it.' He felt her strong thigh muscles come into play again, and he slid out of her once more. She began to rub herself up and down the base of his rampant penis giving him no satisfaction whatsoever, and for the first time in his sexual career, he realised that achievement of his orgasm was not first and foremost in his partner's mind. She stretched out, her feet separated and slid down the length of his stretched legs, and he felt her doing press-ups over his rampant sex while her lips brushed and rubbed at various body parts; his lips, his chin and ears, and his nipples.

  Faster and faster she went, rubbing herself forward and backward until he was nearly crying with the strange, erotic sensations she was producing. Then with a groan, she came. Kevin felt the small pulse of her orgasm against his balls. He'd never felt that before. Esther never did that. Alicia never did that; nor Jeannie, nor Rose, nor Suzanne... the list was endless, his memories tortured. Had they all been faking? With a blinding flash of understanding, he realised he had never made a woman come in his life.

  His need overtook him. He groaned. The unknown woman climbed from him, sated. He moved, writhed, begged without words for her to take him in her hands and finish the job. She couldn't leave him like this...

  He sensed she was watching.

  'Say it,' she said softly.

  No, he couldn't. He'd never beg!

  'Say it. Ask me. Beg me.'

  He groaned weakly. His penis was throbbing, and if it wasn't stimulated he knew his erection would merely melt away of its own accord, but even if it did, his need to come would remain an urgent compulsion deep inside his brain, and wouldn't disappear until it had been consummated.

  'I'll say it one more time,' she warned. 'Then I'll go.'

  'Please!' he gasped.

  Strong fingers wrapped around him, lifted, milked briefly, and in an instant he shot his load into the cup of her hand. 'Now what do you say?' the seductive voice persisted.

  'Bastard!' he muttered. If she thought he was going to say thank you... God, he'd never said thank you before in his life! They always said it to him. Except that Michelle bitch, and this wasn't her, he'd swear.

  She walked away. He heard the running of water, and his normal icy composure returned.

  He said sarcastically, 'If you've quite finished, you can let me up now.'

  She responded with a soft chuckle. 'Why, slave, you have such a lot to learn. I've hardly started. Be kind to yourself. Thank me for this lesson.'

  A cold shiver ran down his spine. 'Fuck you,' he growled.

  'If you don't do it voluntarily, I will force it out of you.'

  'Bitch! Let me up!'

  'I'm sorry, I can't do that. I enjoyed myself, and I want to do it again, and again, and again. But you have to learn to appreciate the quality time I'm giving you. You must learn to be grateful.'

  'I don't want to be grateful,' he hissed. 'I've got a wife. I have to go home.'

  Her voice was suddenly harsh. 'You don't normally care about that, so why should I?'

  'But...' how much did she know about him? 'Please? Please let me up.'

  'I like it when you say please.' Her voice dropped a notch. 'Say please again.'

  The false sugar melted from his voi
ce. 'Let me up you fucking bitch!' he snarled.

  'Don't scream at me, slave.'

  'I'm not anybody's slave!'

  'You are mine.'

  He screamed as loud as he could. 'Help! Help! Rape! Murder!' He stopped and listened, hoping for help, expecting retribution, but all he heard was a soft laugh. His head followed the sound of her as she walked right around him.

  'The room is soundproofed, slave. No one can help you. You're mine to do with as I please. You will wait here at my pleasure, and you will pleasure me whenever I choose. I can make you do it, you know I can. But if you're a good boy, and if you please me really, really well,' her low laughter made his skin crawl, 'I might keep you for ever and ever and ever.'

  With those parting words he felt the draft of a door opening and the soft thud of its closing as she left him chained to the bed, a male rubber doll with no other reason for his existence than waiting on her pleasure. And that waiting seemed to stretch into eternity. His thoughts buzzed around the women he had been with, Esther, his work, his home, and back to whoever had him here now. He feared that unless he escaped, life as he knew it was probably over.

  The next time she came into the room Kevin could only listen. He heard the door open and close. He heard the click of a switch, but not the faintest hint of light trickled through his blindfold.

  'Who are you?' he asked again, tensing with unease.

  'You may call me Mistress,' she said.

  'Like hell.' There was silence for a moment. 'I'm hungry.'

  'Well you can just stay that way until you do something to earn your food.'

  He pulled with frustration at his restraints. 'I can't do anything like this.' His voice softened, wheedled. 'Let me up and I'll please you. I know how to please a woman. I can please you. I know all the places to touch...'