What Do Dommes Fantasise About?

What Do Dommes Fantasise About?

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if you were completely submissive to me. My mind tends to stray towards a sexual kinky fantasy – a Domme’s fantasy. They’re not talked about much, right? Usually all eyes are on the submissive – the submissive male, in the majority of FemDom – but what do Dommes fantasise about?

I find myself curious about the sexual potential of a D/s and romantic relationship where he’s totally submissive. It’s the curious creative in me. It’s the sex mad bitch in me. Whatever you want to call it, my mind strays there and the fantasy is involved and attractive.

What would it be like if you were at my beck and call all day long? To order you about -and you enjoying it of course- having you complete my every command. Let’s start with everyday stuff, making tea and coffee, doing the dishes, making meals, doing the housework, and have you work your way up to sexually satisfying me.

When we got to the bedroom you’d be in a collar and cage. Yes, you definitely would, no argument. A collar to which a leash can be attached, for beautifully perverse walkies and ownership fantasies, and a metal chastity cage. Preferably one which connects to a PA piercing we’ve previously arranged and sorted for you. The metal ring at the end of the chastity cage goes through not just through the bars of the cage but also through the piercing in the end of your cock. No: my cock. Totally chaste, totally owned, totally mine.

You’d be desperate to serve and please every night. The chaste torment and my daily routine of tease and denial winding your need up to maximum, so you’d be bursting to find at least a little release in satisfying my sexual needs – if not your own. I’d lie on my front on the bed and you’d be allowed to crouch behind me, behind my spread legs, and lick my cunt while I relaxed after another hard day. Circling my clit with your expert tongue, dipping your tongue into my cunt and being lucky enough to taste me. Making me leak my desire on to your  tongue and having my labia part in excitement for your skilled mouth, spurred on by chaste torment… licking and lapping and delving and tasting like there’s nothing in the world more important.

For you, there isn’t.

Your entire world is filled with pleasing me. Whether that’s by debasing yourself for my entertainment, wearing clothing I choose for maximum humiliation, telling you to buy those lacy clothes in a shop – asking the store staff if you can try them on, even – or constantly wearing a chastity cage under your clothes – no matter how professional the outer clothes – you’ll do it. No questions asked. You’re my absolute and utter slave to do with whatever I wish, and your top priority is to ensure that I’m happy and fulfilled – in all ways.

My satisfaction comes from your humiliation, your tortuous denial through chastity and your constant scrambling to find new and exciting ways to submit to me. To please me. Begging to be able to have a release, and me then making that release (if granted) the most humiliating and disgusting form possible. You’d only really desire my sexual pleasure, not your own. Your ultimate fantasy would be for me to have my orgasms while riding your face… while you’re still locked in cruel chastity. Now that’s fucking hot.

I might decide to include others in our playtime, to make things even more interesting. Forcing you to fuck others, blindfolded, not knowing who they are. Not knowing what they look like. Not knowing what gender they are. Not allowed to touch. Just knowing that you must obey. Obedience means my pleasure, my happiness. Therefore there isn’t any other choice. Fuck or fail.

You would submit to endless chastity… if that’s what I demand. To constantly hope that I will allow you a release, but knowing that it might be days, weeks, months… a year? It doesn’t matter, because your orgasm doesn’t matter. Get over it. That cock has no purpose besides what it can do for me. You will live with it being locked down and be happy with it locked down because it makes me happy.

And when the frustration becomes too much, as it inevitably will, you will cry. Big, fat tears of desperation. And I will laugh and delight in those tears. Because they turn me on even more. Your pain and suffering and need turns me on even more.

So cry like the pathetic little suffering dog you are, and bark for your next release that you’ll be forced to lick up while watching yourself in the mirror, because you’re mine now. And don’t you ever forget it.

 

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