“I want you to pretend you are, like, a servant. A sex servant. No, not like a whore. You’re not getting paid. So I guess it is more slave than servant. But the word slave is so loaded. So cliché. There is no way I can say I want you to pretend to be my sex slave. I just can’t ever say that. It’s so embarrassing. God kink is so embarrassing. I have, like the world’s most naff sexuality.
But, anyway, I’m going to say servant. The vibe is more servant than slave anyway. I can’t explain better. But you’re also a prisoner. Hang on, let me go back.
So imagine there was a war. Or a siege. Some kind of conflict in ancient times or times that never were. It’s not important. Now is not really the time for world building. But let’s just say it’s some kind of genre-y world and leave at that before I get embarrassed by my geekdom. But there was a war and you lost. You were some big deal on the losing side. Some kind of butchy half-naked raging 300 type deal. Vicious and muscled up to fuck. Gorgeous and brutey and physical and filthy. Someone who’s lived and life full of excess. Fighting and fucking.
Yes, god, you’re so fucking hot, but you chose the wrong side and now it’s going to get very bad for you.
You’ve lost and for some reason you haven’t been killed. I don’t know, say, say someone thinks it would be bad luck. Or you’ve done some kind of deal. Anyway whoever it is who is in charge of whatever goes on around here has decided that as you are to remain alive – for now – a suitably humiliating show of a punishment would be to be my servant. I’m no one, by the way. No one important. A face in the crowd. In my fantasies it is never about me or who or what I am. It is just about him and his terrible plight.
Oh how I love his terrible plight.
So you’re my servant. I can and do hurt you a lot. I can do what I want to you. And if I get tired of you and want to get rid of you, you’ll probably end up being killed. But, also, although my place is guarded and fortified it being also, your prison, we’re on our own, and your this big fearsome warrior, so you could kill me and start trying to fight your way out. You wouldn’t stand a chance. But there is that. That danger. Every time you’re not tied down.
And edge of danger or a shade of complicity. I like the way it cuts both ways.,
But that is who you are. And that’s just backstory. Just your motivation. What I want you to have in your head when you fuck me.”
17 Comments
March 12, 2008 at 11:38 pm
Wow.
*fans self*
March 13, 2008 at 1:56 am
sweet IPU, that is almost *exactly* like one of my oldest fantasies, with a few critical details changed. as a submissive, I am the spoil of war, and not a deadly warrior, but a deadly spy! you did a good job of describing the scenario, which is a tough one. Kinda like telling a dream that while you were in it you knew all this backstory, but that extra stuff is hard to explain…
March 13, 2008 at 6:28 am
It sounds like it could almost be the plot of an Iain Banks novel.
(that isn’t a *bad* thing, you understand)
March 13, 2008 at 7:08 am
I think it’s awesome that your fantasies require backstories.
I’m kinda reminded of like… half of “Wizards First Rule”. The plot really had nothing to do with kink, but that didn’t stop Goodkind from making half the goddamn book about a magical dominatrix in red leather.
March 13, 2008 at 7:12 am
There should be more books with unnecessary plots about magical
submissivessex servants…March 13, 2008 at 3:36 pm
That is so effing hot, Bitchy! Thank you for sharing.
I love sexual fanasies with backstories, makes them just so much hotter for me… And that one, that one is just oh so very good.
March 14, 2008 at 12:19 am
Hm, yes, like R I’ve had a similar fantasy where I was the spoil of war. I liked the idea, but I got bored so quickly any time I tried it. I don’t know why it had never occurred to me before now that actually what I wanted was to do it the *other way round*.
Beej, you continue to open my world.
March 14, 2008 at 2:59 pm
Oh simply lovely, and I love how you make him think about his plight, how you do enjoy it and in a away what complete power you have over him and his life but at the same time how you do give him the knowledge that even though he could escape (and most likely fial and die anyways) it’s his decision to stay and serve you.
Wow that is the hottest element what you wrote, the mind twist of it all.
March 14, 2008 at 3:05 pm
bl00dy he11…have u been reading my mind?? that’s quite possibly one of my oldest fantasies, almost to a tee (from a very young…reads *too* young to be deemed healthy…age)
Except now I’ grown up into that big gruff ugly ‘300′ type character…
p.s…..does anyone know how to get silver f…king bodypaint off?…..
don’t answer that…just not the wire brush AGAIN….
(btw love your blog BJ…brightens my day no end)
March 14, 2008 at 6:59 pm
stunningly written
always a pleasure to wander by your blog Bitchy.
March 14, 2008 at 8:46 pm
I agree with Forest Pines. A Song of Stone comes to mind.
March 16, 2008 at 11:35 pm
The flame burning from the torch flickers over what I most fear and love.This nemesis that stands so seeming tall is painted with warm orange light.A warmth I don’t feel down here in my cold dank bleak oubliette.
A new shivering overtakes me one atop another.The first is from the cold.My body clothed in the tatters of my once proud warrior uniform with all its pomp now reduced to shreds.My still powerful arms that are kept in shape by my pushing against the tight confines of my cell as I try to inch up to the grating above me.
My body was so stocky but is now more wiry as the food I now get is no where near as plentiful as when I could lord it over my vassals.
She lowers the net into my cell little more than a tunnel.I admire her strength as she hauls me up a mix of the copious food and her natural big plump build she was born with.
“I heard you calling again you must want to play again”
She is right my voice is a rasp from the calling I have been making now for the past 3 hours.A calling that will end one set of suffering to be replaced by another.The relative warmth of the chamber above the opening to my current realm is comforting but not for long.
A hose is played over me forcibly and I twist and squirm to avoid its blast.She always does this as I am keenly aware to my sensitve nostrils that I stink having lived in my own filth and hers for days now.Wher once I smelt the flowers of the gardens of my palace and the oils and perfumes applied to my body to make it shiny and supple is now the smell of what she chooses to bestow upon from her body as well as my own rank sweat.
But the continued strain of the net from its haulings and my struggle and the now sodden links of the net has made them weak.They snap as my rippling muscle shears them.
You have become complacent and no long carry the sword you once carried when lifting me from my obliette.I am upon you an tear at your hair as you tear at mine.Your strength is equal to mine and as the struggle continues mine dminishes.I make a dash for the door and get into the light.But a call from behind me stops me in its tracks.
“Don’t run.For pitys sake don’t run.They will kill you the moment you go past the garden walls.Don’t waste your life come back here and remain safe where you are wanted and needed”
There is real pain in her voice and this above anything turns his limbs to stone.
“We need each other.You need me because the moment I die or tire of you you die.Whilst you are here you live and serve a purpose.”
He looks at the wall a wall less tall than the incline of his oubliette.He can climb it he can run and hide and gather an army to return here and conquer again.In a second she is next to him holding his wrists.
“Quick come back they might see you and then you are dead.You have a place here and you have your place here to keep me amused.”
“But when you tire of me I will die anyway”
“Not if you comply with my wishes and submit to what I want to do to you.Come in”
She pulls him half dragging him in but his resistance is weakening.He meekly waits while she puts the handcuffs on him and then the leg irons and the heavy chains about his upper body and the humbler about his balls.
She is exultant he wanted to leave but wanted to stay to.”What warrior man would want to stay to suffer so many indignitys and so much pain unless he wanted to.You could have run and gone down fighting but you want to live and you want to live with me and only me this way”
And as the rasp of the sandpaper scraped over his inner thighs moving upwards he knew she was speaking the truth.
March 18, 2008 at 9:10 pm
Ick. Noooo!
I don’t want any guy I can lift. If I can haul him up on that chain it’s never gonna work between us.
March 23, 2008 at 7:24 pm
Perhaps there is a winch or pulley system something involving cogs (desperately looking about for a way to lift that muscle bound leviathan).
March 23, 2008 at 9:02 pm
That’s what Jack said.
But I like to think I have a large team of servants whose job it is to bring him to me.
I am lazier than you could believe
May 13, 2008 at 12:25 pm
Maybe you have an electric winch?
Sure, it’s a little out of period, but there’s not really anything to say that electricity isn’t around
October 5, 2008 at 7:35 pm
I’m going to do my best to not wish this was a book. A really well written, well authored, nuanced book with lots of character development, pain, and painful sex. I would write the book, but that would make it less satisfying. Maybe that’s just a copout.