Every survey on sexual fantasies ever carried out ranks it as one of the world’s favourite kinks but masochism is often a truth that dare not speak its name.
It’s not one you often hear men admitting to masochistic fantasies in guy talk. Even in a touchier feelier age men feel they are supposed to be tough and in control.
So all-pervasive is the image of the “strong empowered” female that it’s also perhaps difficult for many women to admit to these kind of fantasies.
But whatever society may say about our kinks, it doesn’t stop us having them.
It was the early days of lockdown and I was chatting to a woman I met on Tinder who was just across a nearby national border. Suddenly the borders were closed and it seemed like it might be months before we could actually meet. As we chatted she mentioned for the second time that during these days of quarantine she was feeling particularly horny.
Playing it hot
Not one to let such an opportunity to talk about sex pass I decided to zero in on that.
“Yeah me too, what can one do?”
“Well I can think of one thing,” she said.
I hoped she was going to say something like that. This conversation was going where I wanted it to go.
“Yeah what’s that?” I said with faux innocence.
“Let’s just say it involves some alone time and a few fantasies.”
This was even better. Masturbation and fantasies are one of my favourite subjects to talk to with a potential date. It doesn’t happen when very often but when it does the results are usually interesting. I liked her photos – in her mid 40s, well-groomed and fresh faced. Dark, as many of the women are around here. I was slightly intimidated by her past though. Since getting divorced she had gone on a wild ride of self-liberation and slept with dozens of guys in a short time. She said she wanted something stable now. I’m not sure if sharing info about fucking dozens of guys in a few months in an early chat is a good way to start off that particular journey.
Kink of kinks
I like fantasies, I explained to her. I also like the idea of fantasies. You can go places in a fantasy that you cannot go in real life. You can command amazing looking people to do things that they would never do, you can do or have done to and an anytime you can snap right out of it and carry on with your day as if nothing has happened.
“I can see you’ve thought about this,” she said.
“True,” I replied.
“My fantasies are actually pretty weird though.”
“Aren’t everybody’s?” I said. “I mean the ones people really have. Not the ones they reveal for public consumption.”
“Are they really? I’m not sure about that.”
“However strange you think your fantasies are, I’ve either had or heard of much weirder ones.”
This is certainly true. But I must confess there was a method behind what I was saying. I wanted her to persuade her tell me her fantasy. Learning the sexual proclivities of desirable women is exciting.
Although we’d only talked a couple of times before I thought there was a possibility that she would tell me.
I believe most of us are desperate to be accepted warts-and-all. If somebody accepts what we consider to be unacceptably filthy sexual perversions and still values and admires us then we can’t be a bad person, can we?
The same philosophy underpins the whole idea behind confession in the Catholic religion.
Except obviously asking a woman about her sexual perversions is more likely to provoke a raised eyebrow from the average church congregation.
A deep, ragged breath
Although she was tapping out a reply there was a pause. I could feel that she was taking a deep breath.
“I like to be dominated,” she said.
“That’s not weird,” I said. “That’s pretty mainstream.”There was another silence.
“Actually… I like to be hurt.”
Ok, that was more than I expected. But I was curious.
“You know… I bet we could have some fun, you and I,” I said.
I was bluffing. Partially. In truth despite my bold words I felt a little out of my depth when it came to inflicting sadistic pain on someone. Of course I’ve had girlfriends who have liked mild domination, spanking and the like. Actually setting out to inflict actual pain was another thing. “Go on,” she said. “Explain to me how we could have fun.”
I took a deep breath. What I was about to say was a big risk.
“Do you know what I think you need?” I said. “A bit of discipline. You’re a right little fucking slut.”
“Am I?” Her voice was very soft now.
“Do I need to tell you twice? I have ways of dealing with your kind.”
“Do you? Tell me what you would do.”
Thinking on my feet
I was trying to think up something that would sound sufficiently challenging to scratch her masochistic itch without being way out there and compromising should I ever find these messages published before a Twitter jury.
Of course such a thing was impossible. There are two strong social imperatives at work here: that we should take our lead from women on what we should do to satisfy them sexually and that we should never hurt women. How can you reconcile these when the means to satisfy her sexually is to hurt her?
My musings were cut short by a ringing. It was my phone. It was her! I forgot I had left her my number the other day.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly. She was somewhat breathless. “Tell me what you would do.”
I took a deep breath. She had a nice voice.
“Okay you really want to know how this would go down?”
“Tell me,” she said impatiently.
“The first thing would happen is that I would strip you,” I said. “You would get naked and I would inspect you.”
“How would you inspect me?” She said. “Where would you inspect?”
“Where do you think?” I said. “You think I would inspect your belly button? I would spread your legs and inspect your vagina of course. Your breasts, your teeth, your armpits but especially your vagina.”
She laughed. Underneath it her breath was very ragged in that special turned-on way.
She, herself and her hand
I decided to take another risk.
“Do you know what?” I said. “I think you’re touching yourself right now as we speak.”
She was silent.
“Are you touching yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Ok who said you could do that?”
“You are mean,” she said.
“You don’t know the half of it. Are you wet?”
“Yes.”
“How wet?”
“So wet… that the wetness is outside.”
“You are in very serious trouble,” I said.
“Wait,” she said. “My dad’s calling. I’ll ring you back in a second.”
Enter the Dungeon Master
The truth was I wasn’t sure where to go next or how hard to push the situation. But I know someone who would know these things. I decided to message a friend who we will call “the Dungeon Master”.
The Dungeon Master is a seducer of women who doesn’t quite specialize in the “S” quotient of S&M but is more than happy to supply it if asked. And he says he gets asked a lot. If a woman wants to be humiliated, he will humiliate her, if she wants to be choked he will choke, if she wants to be slapped he will slap her. He is always very clear that he respects consent absolutely.
As luck would have it he saw the message straight away.
I explained the situation to the Dungeon Master, knowing that he likes to pass on the benefits of his considerable experience and he will probably enjoy the conversation.
“I have a few minutes,” I said. “She’s going to call back.”
“Okay he said the first thing you’re going to do is give her a safe word. You’re going to ask her to repeat the safe word and you’re going to get her to say it a few times just to test it out. Any time the conversation or anything else moves into an area she doesn’t like she’ll say the safe word and everything will stop.
“What do I do after that?”
Roller Coaster Ride
“What I do when I’m with a woman and we’ve agreed that we’re going to have this kind of session? After we agree the safe word, she repeats it and knows it. I take a pause. Then reach out and slap her. Really hard. That puts her right into it.
“After that you just do whatever you enjoy. Pissing on her, hurting her tits, sodomising her. What’s important is that you enjoy it. It’s all about your pleasure. If she doesn’t enjoy it, she uses the safe word.”
“And of course you make sure that you are nice to her and accepting of her and you alternate the pain with being very sweet and loving towards her. That kind of roller coaster ride tends to make the girls who are into this kind of thing go absolutely wild.”
The phone was ringing. It was my masochistic Tinder match.
I prepared to snap into character. (to be continued)
By Max
