August 14, 2007
This Unknown Mistress


cydytame095.jpgI have a fantasy that centers on a woman who knows my body better than I do myself. In my fantasy, her voice tells me to touch myself, how to touch and where.

“Use your left hand,” she says, “and peel back your labia like the pages of a book. Let your right finger tease with a gentle pain the tip of your clit.”

I hear her voice, a sweet rosé of a voice, purrs in my ear.

“It feels good, doesn’t it.” Less a question than a statement. She knows what feels good. She always knows.

In my fantasy, she watches.

In my fantasy she tells me when to arch my back so that the finger, the toy or the cock - my fantasies are liquid and swirling with possibility - rubs against my g-spot. Or so that it doesn’t.

She can be cruel, my fantasy woman. Her voice, her knowledge, make me impossibly wet, improbably swollen; she makes my cunt flower forth like a Georgia O’Keefe lily.

“You are a pleasure-loving slut,” she half caresses and half cuffs me with her voice. “You want so badly, don’t you.”

I do indeed.

In my fantasy, this woman understands my body so completely that she knows when it is I want to clench my pussy around the finger, the toy, the cock, and she understands it so well that she knows when not doing so would increase my pleasure.

She knows, even, somehow, when I have followed her directives and when I have not.

The intellect in me wonders what this fantasy is about. I am avowedly often submissive in bed. I enjoy the yin/yang yo-yo tug and pull of this silken exchange of power. I enjoy the boundaries; I like to know when I am transgressing, and I like to be rewarded for when I do not.

I am drawn by both the carrot and the whip.

I prefer not to have to make a choice. And, paradoxically, that is in and of itself a choice. And a choice between two people requires discussion; I enjoy talking about sex with my lover. I love the planning, I love the negotiations, I love the strange formality of entering into sexual play like a pair of synchronized swimmers.

I love the accessories.

And I love the feeling of being used for my lover’s pleasure. I find there are spaces when my lover is fucking me with no regard to my pleasure, my body, my limits even, and in those spaces I am nothing but what I am feeling-the weight of her body, the sharp exhale of my breath, the press of her fingers driving deep and deeper into my body, the sweet squelch of our pussies rubbing like sticks drawing fire. That-only that-is all I am, and it is very good.

I have the desire to be mastered. It’s a strange desire for me to comprehend longer than a fleeting, swooping moment. My fantasy of mastery, of having some lover read me aloud like a book, probably holds within its kernel of eroticism not merely the desire for explanation. It also holds within it a desire to have my pleasure legitimized by this woman. If she says it’s good, then it is. I don’t have to feel bad or dirty about wanting to feel bad and dirty. I can revel in being the whore.

I don’t like having to admit that I want my sexuality authorized by a woman, yet if I’m honest with myself, I realize I do. If I did not, this fantasy would not have such power. I want to be the viewed, known, read, and even authored object/text. And frankly it’s ok.

Today, I took off my shorts, lay in my bed with my dildo next to me. I used my left hand to peel back my labia, to open me. I touched with a light deftness the tip of my clit. I found myself getting wet, wetter, wettest.

And I heard a voice in my head, telling me what to do. How to touch myself, how to spread my thighs open wide, wider. I imagined this woman, this unknown woman, watching my thighs as they parted improbably wide, and as my left hand parted my labia wide, wider as well.

I imagined my thighs spread like the leaves of a book, as if by spreading my body my lover could read what was written there, and by reading, tell me.

Hearing her voice in my head, I pulled the hood of my clit back and simultaneously pinched the base of my clit, so that it rose, a little pink snow-capped mountain, open and naked to my touch.

Hearing her voice, I put the dildo in me, and then parted my pussy lips again, rhythmically pinching my clitbase as I stroked my clit tip, rocking my hips to make the toy inside me bump against my pussywalls.

In and out went the dildo, as I attenuated my pleasure, waiting, toying with myself, as the woman in my head watched and directed. Toying and touching, not letting myself come, even as every nerve begged for it, even as I could begin to feel the twitches in my cunt become less and less voluntary.

And as I lay, page-parted, my fingers pulling, pinching, stretching and touching, I heard that rosé voice in my head.

“Come for me, my slut,” she said.

And I did. Wherever she is, whoever she may be, this woman, my fantasy I carry within myself.


Comments

One Response to “This Unknown Mistress”

  1. badinfluencegirl on August 15th, 2007 1:29 pm

    it’s interesting for me this tale because i often order myself not to come or not to move or something along those lines when i’m playing with myself particularly intensely but it is not nearly the fully drawn out fantasy that your voice in your head is…

    i might just have to get one of my own..

Leave a Reply




  • Our Sites

    • CyberDyke - The only erotic entertainment network for women bi women on the Web
    • CyDy Blog - Views and news about everything queer & dear to us!
    • DarkPlay - Radically different from other internet porn! RL Lesbians sharing their love of Kink with you
    • Girl Tools - Testing all manner of sexual tools! We put our satisfaction on the line so you don't have to!
    • Minx Addiction - Sexy dark Erotica
    • Miss Amanda - Young wholesome girl-loving girl with a very special obsession!
    • N'Tali - A very kinky eclectic African-American fetish and BDSM enthusiast
    • Story Mistress - Erotica that does not shy away from any taboos. Created just for the open-minded lesbian or bisexual woman
    • All the Rest - Over a dozen sites in all are waiting to please you!
    • Free daily image courtesy of CyberDyke.net