A dream and waking desires

I dreamt about flogging last night. I dreamt we were outside a closed door and we could hear the whoosh of the strands through the thick air, the impact hard against flesh and the painful cries of passion. Your eyes told me it was turning you on, the subtle changes in your stance and breathing gave you away. Then from somewhere the old Victorian voice yelled out in my head that it was wrong and bad and evil, that we should stop our perverted ways. In my dream that voice scared me and shamed me, I started to tell you we had to stop, that I couldn’t flog you or spank you or control you anymore. I don’t know if you heard me, the rest of the dream is gone so I’m telling you now because I know there was a struggle in my sleeping mind. The Victorian voice and my butch top fighting for supremacy and when I woke up this morning it was obvious there was a clear winner.

I woke up with a vision of you emblazoned in my brain. Yours arms raised high above your head, palms and fingers entwined with chain, pointlessly gripping what you couldn’t escape. The muscles in your shoulders arched prominently; your perfect pale pink back tight and coiled. Just visible was the curve of your breast, soft, tender and entirely lovely. Your body stretched and arched, flowing in then out to a flawless bare and bold bottom. Supple, slender legs reach down to tightly bound ankles. Your nakedness overwhelmed my senses with simple unadorned splendour. Refined and dazzling, elegant and striking. My beautiful wife.

And alongside the vision sat my all consuming desires. To hit you, take my flogger and thrash you, turn the flesh of your back, bottom and legs red with well aimed blows; warming your body with pain and stinging waves of longing. To push you until you give in and give up every ounce of power and control; succumb and surrender, submit. To make your body crave to be touched, whispering silent prayers for the stroke or slap of my hand. To make your clit hurt with want; a pounding constant ache. To compel your cunt to drip blatant lust until it dribbles uncontrollably down inner thighs and legs. To make you beg shamelessly for my cock in your desperation to be fucked and then cry out frantic pleas for my permission to come.

And then to ignore you, discard your needs and exploit you simply as an object existing only for my pleasure. To flog you and beat you to satisfy the itch in my hand, the ache in my arm and the pounding rage in my head. To take you as my possession, both my slave and my slut with no will of your own. To abuse your body, be aggressive and severe with brutal hands on your clit and eager fingers drawing searing liquid from your cunt. And then to take my cock, rigid with fever and fuck you, callous and relentless, forcing you to unauthorised screaming, gushing, orgasm. Which I’ll disregard continuing with an unbroken rhythm to thrust violently and cruelly into your cunt which belongs to me, not caring how many times you come or if you beg me to stop. I’ll fuck you and fuck you until I explode, shooting psychic come deep inside you, I’ll use you until I’m satisfied and sated because I own you.

I think I have been suppressing myself over the past few weeks, pushing down the need to control and ignoring my inner pervert. It hasn’t been intentional and perhaps is due to a combination of factors, extra work commitments, lack of opportunity to pack, leading to feeling like part of me is missing. Maybe there has also been the quiet whispering of the Victorian voice in my sub conscious. But today I feel revitalised and in control as if an inner battle has been fought and won. It isn’t last night’s dream and my immediate waking desires which make me think that, it’s the fact that I’m embracing those desires. I’m not taking any notice of the “me” that was frightened and ashamed in the dream but instead I’m welcoming the thoughts I woke up with. Accepting those thoughts and desires equals accepting that part of me; and allowing that part of me to come out and play.