My own fantasy world

I've been gone for a while, working on other things. I hope I can get back into the habit. I need more requests! Please, drop them in the comments, find me on fetlife, send me an e-mail.


Today, when I came back to the office, there was something waiting for me. It was a present; I'll let you guess who sent it. (Please, guess. I'll give a prize to whoever gets it right first)

Maybe it would be best just to tell you about it, to describe exactly what happened.

Deeper and Deeper




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At least, that's what I thought had happened. I just knew that there was a box delivered to EbR HQ. A box filled with bondage equipment. I laid out the equipment on my desk and found myself staring, barely holding back the drool, at a full outfit to put on. There was a pair of underwear with a ring in the front and a zipper in the back. I slid that on, pressed myself through the hole, and looked at the rest of it. I slid my legs into some tights that breathed surprisingly well, then started lashing them into the leg binders. Buckles pulled tight, string laced up the front of my legs and down the back of them. The binders hooked on to the belt, which in turn hooked to the chest harness. I strapped on the shackles over my biceps, then my forearms, then my wrists.

            Sliding the mask over my face and pulling the laces tight, I couldn’t help but notice how all this equipment was designed to allow me to put it all on by myself. I didn’t need to call in any help. I could just slip my feet into the leather slipper socks, button them onto the leg binders, and it was like I was completely unable to move, even though I’d put everything on myself. I pulled the body bag out of the box, found the tube for breathing that would go up through it, put the tube through the solid plastic ring in my mask, and pulled the bag up my legs and under my butt before I started actually connecting the shackles on my arms.

            The bag zips from behind, letting me pull it up over my head, the tube sticking out, with just my biceps hooked to the harness. I pull the zip closed, leaving me in complete darkness, and then latch the shackles on my forearms before connecting my wrists across my chest. I’m completely immobile, I can breathe just fine, and I’m here, alone. Enjoying the solitude, enjoying the bondage. I’ll call it research or something.

            I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, enjoying the feel of leather tight around my legs and my arms. I wriggle a bit in the bag, trying to find a comfortable position, making sure that I don’t bend it and end up with a crease digging into my back.

            Then I hear something. Sounds like a whirring sound. But before I can investigate what it might be, the body bag around me starts to tighten. Soon I can’t wriggle even a little bit; the bag has sealed tight, like a vacuum bed.

            Even better!

            Now completely immobile, I decide to let my mind wander. I haven’t been writing much lately, and I need new ideas. Sooner or later, something will come. That’s the whole point of sensory deprivation. I can’t see anything, the only smell in my nostrils is leather, and the only thing I can taste is the rubber breathing tube. I can hear a little bit, but even that is muffled by the thick leather hood and the tight body bag around me. I can’t wiggle my fingers; all that’s left is for my mind to just wander.

            Eventually, I’ll hallucinate. That’s the goal, at least. I’ll start imagining something, let my mind take me wherever it wants to go. It might be profound, might be scary, but whatever it is, it will be new. It will be inspiring.

            Time has no meaning here. I might be waiting for an hour before my brain starts to play tricks on itself, or it might just be a few minutes. I could live an entire life in the space of an afternoon. I wonder where I will go. I wonder who I will be. I wonder what will happen.

            “I can’t believe you just put it on.” It’s a woman’s voice, I’m pretty sure. Dark and husky, but probably still female. The voice comes from directly in my ears, as though I’m wearing some sort of head phones. Possible, I guess.

            “You get a box full of bondage equipment, and you just put it on. Did it not occur to you that maybe it was a trap?”

            I can’t respond out loud; I don’t even have the freedom of movement to move my lips. All I can do is make a little grunt.

            “Oh, I know,” the voice says. “You didn’t think you had to worry about it. Who would want to trap you, after all? Your coworkers all love you. They would worship the ground you walk on, if you weren’t so desperate to worship the boots they walk around in. It couldn’t be them.

            “And it wouldn’t be a fan, would it? What fan would ever have anything but your best interest at heart?”

            The voice laughs a little bit. It’s a dark, twisted laugh. Sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. Do I know her?

            “Think about that for a second, you stupid fuck. Fans don’t always want the best thing for the artist. I know what’s going through your head right now. You’re thinking about that guy who tried to kill Jodie Foster. You’re thinking about John Lennon. You’re thinking about Misery. You really do have a pretty high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

            I struggle, but there’s no point. I don’t have an anchor point, nothing to push against, and no free space to wriggle through. At best, I think I can roll over a bit. But if I roll all the way over, there will be a kink in my breathing tube. And then I’ll suffocate. I need to calm down.

            “That’s right,” the voice says, laughing a little bit. “Hold still. It’s for your own good, and there’s no use struggling. You’re good and tied down. But this is what you want, isn’t it?

            “It’s not hard to read between the lines, you know. The things that you like, the bits of the stories that are really you, not someone else. You love the black lipstick, don’t you? And you love the boots with a nice tread. You want a girl who hates you, remember?

            “You cover all the senses in your stories. The sound of boots clicking on a floor, the feel of a flogger being dragged softly across skin right before it lashes out and delivers an intense jolt of agony. The smell of leather. The taste of cock. The sneering look of those black lips as they tell you how pathetic you are. I have to admit, you do a pretty good job covering all your bases.”

            I make a sound, but I know it won’t carry. I’m good as gagged, and the bag is too tight for me to really take all that deep of a breath. I have to be careful about hyperventilating. I might slowly suffocate, even able to breathe, if I use up more air than I can get in.

            “But you’ve gotten uppity, haven’t you? A bit too proud of yourself. A bit too impressed with yourself. You’ve forgotten what it means to be a worthless piece of shit, to be a worm crawling at the feet of those who own you, those who are superior to you in every way. You’ve forgotten, and you’ve started thinking of yourself as a person again. You’ve started thinking that you’re a human being, just as valuable as any other.”

            I tense a bit, somehow expecting there to be a kick coming to my midsection. But there’s no kick. The voice doesn’t get angry, doesn’t get closer, doesn’t get farther away. It just remains, calm and cool, with so much threat dripping off the words that I’m afraid I might drown in it.

            “You need to be taught your place again. That’s why you got this gift, you know. That’s why you’re here, listening to my voice. Do you know what it means when all of your other senses are cut off? Do you know what happens when all you have to focus on are the words being played into your ears?”

            There’s laughter. I swear I know that laugh.

            “That’s right, little one. No lights, no movement. Just my voice, nothing else you can focus on. Just the sound of my words. Listen to them as they creep through your mind. You can feel them twisting around in your brain, can’t you? Moving through you, reprogramming you. Time to go back to who and what you always were. Time to be a slave again.

            “No more thinking you’re better than anyone. No more thinking. There’s no need to think. You can’t even struggle anymore. There’s no use in trying.”

            I hear her take a breath, but the voice doesn’t get any closer. “This is what you want, isn’t it? You know you love it when someone takes control. Even at your most arrogant, you never denied that. Even when you stepped away from your work, when you wasted your time with other subjects, you always knew that you didn’t want to be in charge. You always knew you wanted someone to tell you what to do.

            “That’s why you don’t want to struggle. That’s why you put the equipment on without even checking the return address. You didn’t care who it was from. You didn’t care what might happen. You saw the chance to give up your power, the chance to lose control, and you took it. You dove down into submission, letting yourself go deeper and deeper.

            “Now you float in darkness, encased in the leather you want to worship. It seeps in with every breath, dripping its way into your body just like my voice is dripping its way into your mind. You float here, focused on my voice, deeper and deeper under my control.

            “There’s no need to resist. No need to struggle. I’m just going to give you what you want. You want to serve, don’t you? You want to lose control. You want someone else to tell you what to do.

            “You want to be a slave. That’s who you are. That’s what you are. A thing. A toy for others to use. You can’t just skim the surface, either. You have to go deep into submission. Deeper and deeper, you have to become a mindless toy, a slut, a slave. You don’t need to have a will of your own. You don’t need to make decisions. You don’t need anything but obedience.

            “It’s nice to obey, isn’t it? Makes you happy to just do as you’re told. As you go into your role, deeper and deeper, you know that it’s better this way. No stress. No pressure. No fear. Just submission. Deep submission. Deeper and deeper down into what you always wanted anyway.

            “You want to serve, and you want to serve, and you want to serve. You want to serve anyone. You want to serve everyone. There’s no end to your depravity. You’ll just keep going, deeper and deeper, into the most abject humiliation possible. Won’t you, little worm?

            “Yes, you will. You’re just a worm, and worms can be squashed. You don’t want to be squashed. You want to please the people. You want to serve. You want to go deeper and deeper into servitude.

            “There’s no need for limits. A worm doesn’t have limits. A worm doesn’t need limits. Worms just are. They just serve.

            “And that’s what you are, isn’t it? You’ll suck every cock that comes near you. You’ll lick every boot that others allow. You’ll sink to your knees, deeper and deeper, every time you get the chance. You’ll let them fuck you, won’t you? You’ll let them tie you back up. Any command you’re given sinks into your mind, deeper and deeper, until it’s like the whole world can control your thoughts.

            “You don’t need thoughts. You don’t need to consider. You just obey. Words on the phone, people in a video. You obey whispers in the bathroom. You find joy in whatever you’re told to find joy in. You know that it’s about serving, about going deeper and deeper. Submit, worm.

            “You want this. You need it. So desperate. So intense. You’d beg for this. You’d beg a stranger to shit on your face. You’d be grateful for the opportunity to lick the tires of a motorcycle. You’d thank someone for spitting in your mouth. Wouldn’t you? Each time you obey, each order you obey, each task you obey, just makes things better. It feels good, doesn’t it? The deeper and deeper you go into slavery, the better it is.

            “You live to be fucked. You live to serve. You want them to fuck you, to push their cocks deeper and deeper. You want cocks in your ass, in your throat. You want to be pounded on both sides, deeper and deeper. You want to smell the musk, to feel the exhaustion that comes from being used by a train of people. You know that you’re just a worm, just an object, just a toy. You want them to use you as a toy. They can use you without concern, then toss you aside, put you back in the garbage, deeper and deeper into the trash. Because you are trash, aren’t you worm? You belong in a dumpster. You live as a cum dumpster. You ache to be an ashtray. You want to be a toilet. The dirtiest, the filthiest, the worst; you want it all. You want to be the lowest of the low.

            “You want to go deeper. Deeper and deeper, lower and lower. Strip away your humanity, throw aside your ego. Leave nothing behind. Go down, deeper and deeper, and just be. Be the slave you want to be. The slave you need to be. You are worthless. You are a worm. You are trash. You are nothing. Less than nothing. Lower than shit. Deeper and deeper.”

            There’s a bell that sounds, and the bag releases its hold on me. The voice disappears, and I find the zipper from the inside. I slide the bag open, unhook myself, and pull off the mask. I sit on the floor, gasping, my skin flushed with excitement, glad there’s that hole in the underwear.

            I could check the mask and see if there are head phones, see if there is a speaker. I could know for sure.

            But I’m not sure I want to. What if I want to do this again? What if I want to go down even further?

            Knowing wouldn’t help. I’d rather just have it there, waiting for me. Beckoning me. Wanting me to go deep.

            Deeper and deeper.