London Day 2 - Dreaming of her Boyfriend's Cock

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Earning the Collar (A Fantasy)

It is late Friday night and Goddess Manuela and I are walking down Christopher Street in Greenwich Village, a traditionally gay neighborhood in New York City. We are looking in the windows of all the boutiques specializing in leather clothes and fetish wear. Goddess stops in front of one of these stores and points to a black leather collar in the front window of one of them. She tells me to go in. We walk in and she picks up the collar from the window display -- a thin, almost delicate leather collar with the word "SLUT" written on it in silver letters.

The Goddess holds the collar up to my neck in front of a mirror and asks me what I think of it. She whispers, "I had them custom make this collar to fit your thin neck, Velvet. And the lettering is sterling silver. What do you think of it? You want to be my slut, don't you?" I tell Goddess Manuela that it would be a privilege to wear it for her and be her slut. She can tell, by the growing bulge in my jeans, that I am very excited about the idea.

I look at the price tag -- it is $72 dollars -- and I take out my credit card to buy it. "Not so fast," Goddess says, "For you everything is just about money. I want you to earn this collar."

Goddess Manuela puts the collar back in the window and walks out of the store. I follow behind her. It is 11:45 p.m. on a Friday night. The many dance clubs and gay bars of this section of the city are crowded and just getting started for the night. There is a lot of energy out on sidewalks as the techno dance music from the nearby clubs escapes though open windows. Goddess Manuela studies a sign on the fetish boutique's door listing its business hours. The store closes at midnight and reopens at 10:00 a.m.

Goddess tells me, "I want you to come to my apartment wearing that collar by noon tomorrow."

I start to say, "No problem, Goddess," but she cuts me off quickly and makes me listen to her. She says: "First, give me your wallet, ATM card, credit cards, and all the cash in your pockets." I immediately hand these over and she places them into her purse for safe keeping. "Next," she says, "give me your apartment keys and your cell phone and, just to be careful, give me your watch also."

I obey Goddess Manuela's instructions, realizing that I am turning over all the valuables I am carrying with me, but I am not sure what the Goddess has in mind. "You'll get all these things back when you come to my apartment wearing that collar."

The Goddess puts my keys, phone and watch in her handbag and pulls out a black permanent marker, like a Sharpie. She tells me to take off my jacket and button-down shirt. I remove these, leaving only a plain white cotton t-shirt above my jeans. "This too?" I ask.

"No," Goddess says, "I plan to make use of that t-shirt." She uncaps the black marker and starts to write on the chest area of my t-shirt. I can't see what she is writing, although I am struggling to turn my head.

Goddess Manuela finishes writing and pulls a box of condoms out of her bag and hands it to me. At the same time, I am finally able to read the writing on my t-shirt, reflected in the glass of the store window. It says in big black letters, Blowjobs For $1

Goddess walks away and gets in a taxi before I even have a chance to react or complain.

I understand what Goddess has in mind for me. I gaze at the "SLUT" collar with its silver shining in the window of the boutique. And I spend the next twelve hours -- on my knees in the dirty bathrooms of gay bars, under tables in the corners of dance clubs, and in dark alleys and parking lots -- doing what it takes to earn that collar.

Spit on Me, Please (A Fantasy)

Brian re-read the e-mail message from Mistress Katrina again to make sure that he had not forgotten anything. It said:

Dear pussyboy:

Go to the bank today before it closes and withdraw $600 in cash. You need to make sure that you get this cash entirely in $5 bills.
After work, go home, shower & shave. Put on red silk bikini panties, light khaki or cream colored pants, and a plain white dress shirt without an undershirt. Be at the corner of Hudson and Christopher Streets with the cash at precisely 9 pm.

Mistress K

When he received the e-mail that afternoon, Brian had had to run to the bank to get there before it closed. But, he got there in time and was able to withdraw the $600 Mistress Katrina had specified. With the help of several tellers he was able to change all the cash into five dollar bills.

Brian had performed the rest of the tasks listed in the e-mail that evening and was walking down Christopher Street to his appointment with a fat stack of 120 $5 bills in his pocket and plenty of time to spare. In fact, he began to wonder if it was too easy. Mistress Katrina normally imposed much more difficult tasks and more stringent dress requirements when they met in public, such as making him walk to their rendezvous on all fours or meeting her in Times Square wearing only a leather harness and collar.

At any rate, Brian was looking forward to seeing his beautiful Mistress again and when he arrived at the corner of Hudson & Christopher he was not disappointed. Mistress Katrina was a vision of perfection. Tonight Mistress wasn't wearing one of her typical, elegant business suits but more festive club-going attire -- a red corset top, a flirty pleated black skirt, and 4" heels in red patent leather. Brian was always amazed how Mistress Katrina was able to ooze sex appeal from every one of her pores, yet never lose at bit of her refinement or sophistication.



Brian greeted his mistress with a kiss on the hand and then promptly offered her the envelope with the $600. She said, "Keep that. You will need it later. In fact, I have something for you." Mistress Katrina handed Brian a small rectangular box and told him not to open it until they reached their destination.

They walked two blocks south on Hudson until they were in front of one of New York's most popular lesbian bars. It was a pleasant Thursday night in early spring and the clubs and bars of Greenwich Village were crowded, and no place more than Henrietta Hudson. The bar attracted a very diverse crowd -- tough biker chicks with leather jackets and tattoos on their arms; slim hipster chicks with dyed hair and tattoos on their shoulder blades; glamorous "lip-stick lesbians" in high heels and Chanel dresses; butch dykes in wife-beater t-shirts; college girls experimenting with their sexuality; and even a few men there with friends or just to gawk.

Mistress Katrina said, "You may open the box now." Inside were what Brian thought were business cards. He pulled one out for closer inspection and, in fact, it was an elegantly embossed off-white business card.

"What a strange gift," he thought. Then Brian looked closer. Instead of his name and address, each of the cards bore the same small embossed message:

Please spit on me.
I will pay $5 for the privilegeof receiving your saliva.

Brian looked at Mistress Katrina, back at the business card, and then at the boisterous crowd of Sapphic women. "How do you want me to do this?," he asked.

"No talking. Just give a card to anyone who interests you and then hand over the money. We will be here until you run out of cards or run out of $5 bills."

To be continued . . .

This fantasy was inspired by a fun pro domme session and a gossip page news item, both from last November.

Lingerie Shopping (A Fantasy)

Mistress Manuela and I walk into Victoria Secret. Mistress is wearing an elegant black business suit and I am wearing casual sports wear -- khaki pants, a blue shirt and a jacket. It is a Saturday afternoon and the store is full with people shopping, mostly women and few couples. The walls and shelves of the large room are covered with frilly delectable things of all colors and styles -- jade green teddies, pink corsets, bright red camisoles, black silk panties, garters, stockings of all types. It is a paradise for my eyes and just being there with my Mistress gives me a bulge in my pants.

I say, "Mistress, I will buy you what ever you like. How would you some beautiful European lingerie by Azzuma? Or how about the Nikita or Francoise collections by Agent Provocateur?

Mistress whispers to me. "We can shop for those thing later, my pet. I have different plans for today." Mistress walks up to the nearest shop employee -- a tall, innocent-looking blond young woman who seems about 20 -- and asks for her name.

She says "I'm Julie, How I can help you today?"

Mistress says "I am looking for some things for my friend here" and points at me.

Julie says, "We don't have much. We might have a few men's briefs and boxer shorts in the back of the store."

Mistress says, "That is not what I had in mind." And then loudly, so that everyone in the store turns and stares, Mistress says "What size panties do you think he wears?"

Julie looks confused at first, but then she looks into Mistress's eyes and knows that she is not joking. Julie pulls out a pair of cherry red bikini briefs off the nearest shelf and holds them up to my crotch to judge the size. Julie speaks to Mistress in a low, slightly embarased voice and says, "I think a small. Is there much down there . . . we need to be concerned with?" as she points to the bulge in my pants.

Mistress smiles and answers loudly, "No, don't worry about that. He has a very small cock; it shouldn't get in the way." Everyone in the store is pretending not to listen, but I can tell they are all watching with amusement and are barely able to keep from laughing.

Mistress tells Julie to put together a large collection of panties and other lingerie for me. Mistress tells me that she is not sure whether they will fit and that I should go to the back of the store to try them on. Julie comes back to the dressing room to assist me with the sizing. I can see the excitement on her pink cheeks as she tells me that it is store policy that an attendant always be present in the dressing room to prevent theft. So, I take off my pants and then my boxer shorts as she watches and I try on pair after pair of panties -- pink cotton briefs, black silk thongs, g-strings, low-rise panties, red lacy panties. Occasionally, Julie adjusts the panties on my ass or front and tells me how pretty they make me look. I can tell she is enjoying my ridicule almost as much as Mistress.

Finally, I have tried on all the panties and I am ready to go. Julie has already rung up a $400 bill for the lingerie. I look for my boxer shorts and I can't find them. Julie smiles and says that my Mistress took my underwear away when I was trying on the lingerie. I leave the pink satin panties I am wearing on and pull on my pants.

I go out to see Mistress and she has just taken scissors, cut my boxers into four pieces and thrown them into to the trash. She laughs and says, "I hoped you picked out some comfortable panties today. Those rags in the trash were your last pair of men's underwear. Early this morning while you were sleeping I threw out all your other boxers and briefs. From now on, underneath your suit each day at work will be a frilly feminine pink secret."

Julie hands me the large shopping bag of lingerie to carry home -- it is a clear plastic bag so everyone can see what I am carrying. She smiles and says, "It was a pleasure helping you today and I am sure I will see you again many times in the future."

As we walk down the street away from the store, Mistress says, "Also remember, my slave, that these panties will serve almost as a chastity belt -- to insure your fidelity -- because how could you ever take off your pants for another woman knowing that you would have to show her the panties you are wearing?" Mistress just laughs and then calls her real boyfriend on her cell phone to arrange their date for that night.

Weekly Fantasies

Goddess Manuela said that she enjoyed my first fantasy The Secretary with All the Keys that I sent her a few days ago and that it gave her good insight into my submissive personality. She decided that I should write one such fantasy every week for her enjoyment and analysis.

Goddess ordered me to deliver the fantasies to her by Monday morning so that she can have something to brighten up her Mondays. I send my second weekly fantasy – Lingerie Shopping – that same night.

The Secretary with All the Keys (A Fantasy)

I work in a big traditional office where most of the executives are men and most of the secretaries are women. I get a new secretary assigned -- Emma. She is a young and beautiful vivacious brunette I have seen her in the building before, but she seems be to transferred frequently from floor to floor. It doesn't take me long to learn that Emma is extremely intelligent and well-educated. I wonder why she is content to be a secretary.

Emma is always impeccably dressed in form-fitting skirts, slight low-cut tops, stockings and heels I can't keep my eyes off her. I try to be professional, but because her desk is immediately in front of my office, I have trouble keeping my eyes off her entirely. She has a sensual way of moving even when she is only filing papers or answering the phone. Occasionally, she catches me staring at the seams in the back of her stockings or watching her skirt as it rides up her legs when she crosses them.

One day, I am giving Emma dictation and she is sitting with her legs crossed, dangling one of her high heels just a few feet from me. She meets my eyes looking at her stockinged feet and shoe. I get distracted and lose my place in the dictation. She says, "If you like my shoes so much, why don't you get down on your knees and kiss them?""Excuse me?," I say."I think you heard me," she says. It only takes me an instant to make my choice and I am down on my knees before her, kissing the bottoms of her Prada slingbacks.

After that, it is only a matter of days before she has asserted control over every aspect of my life at work. She soon requires that I wear pink panties underneath my suit each day at work. Throughout the day, she periodically comes into my office and shuts the door behind her to perform an inspection or require that I worship her feet.

Although I only see Emma at work -- I don't even know where she lives -- I dream of her nightly and tremble for her arrival each morning. Once she has me under her thumb, Emma insists that I increase my productivity at work. She makes me take additional work projects home and rewards me when I finish a project successfully and punishes me when I fail to meet deadlines. Under her supervision, my productivity increases 50% because I am driven with a sexual urge to please her and it infuses all my work. One month after Emma has seized control, she brings some documents into my office for me to sign. She tells me that as a secretary she only makes $25,000 a year and that as an executive I make $200,000. She says, "We both know that based on our worth to the company, those figures should be reversed." I tell her that I will arrange to give her a raise.

She says that she has an easier way. She presents me with documents establishing a direct deposit of my paycheck into her account so that I am left only with a remainder of $25,000 per year and she gets everything above that, including my stock options and equity in the company. I sign it willingly because I know that she deserves it. Several months later, it is time for her periodic employee review. I give her the top marks in all categories -- which she would merit for her top-notch work, even if I were not her slave. She takes the time to review me. She says that I have potential but that I sometimes get distracted by my sexual urges. She pulls out a shiny plastic chastity tube out of her briefcase and tells me to put it on. She watches with idle curiosity as I obey. Then she locks the tube with a small brass padlock and keeps the key. "Now, I think you will have the discipline to devote yourself to your work. After every major project you finish you will receive relief. The more work you do, the more frequently you be able to come."

A few days later, Emma tells me she is transferring herself to work for an executive on another floor. She smiles and says "Don't worry, I'll stop by frequently to supervise." She points to my crotch where the chastity tube hangs underneath my pants and says, "Anyway, that should do most of my work for me."As she packs up her things to move, I notice the key ring on which she keeps the key to my chastity device. There must be 30 or 40 similar, small brass keys on it.

All of a sudden, it dawns on me. For the last several years, she has worked her way through the business, systematically conquering and dominating almost all the male executives. She must be making millions each year if each one, like me, has been reduced in wages to a secretary. Even as I watch her walk away and I think about the life ahead of me --single-minded devotion to my work, long periods of chastity, all at very low wages -- I have no regrets.

Masturbation Journal: A Fantasy of Permanent Transformation

I wake up late the next morning, remembering my shopping from the previous night. I fantasize about living as Tonya Truckler. At first, I only occasionally dress up when I meet Goddess Alexandra; keeping Tonya's clothes, shoes and wigs hidden in my closet. Then, I get so much stuff that I rent a small storage unit in lower Manhattan -- stopping in there when I need to transform into Tonya. Over time, I rent a studio apartment in the East Village where I can keep my growing collection. Goddess Alexandra visits and tells me to paint the apartment a bright, sissy pink inside and to buy a queen-size bed with red satin sheets and a dressing table with a big mirror and lights. At this point, my cross-dressing is so effective that I have rented the apartment in Tonya's name and have several credit cards and subscriptions to fashion magazines in her name.

More time passes. One night, I am out with Goddess Alexandra and she stares into my eyes and says, "Tonya, Do you want to be mine forever?" I say, "Yes, of course." She says: OK, Lets get rid of [velvet slave], he is a third wheel in this Goddess/slave relationship. You have three weeks. He can tell his employer and parents that he is moving overseas somewhere to Europe (he can occasionally call to check in). He can give up his apartment and transfer all his assets to Tonya. Tonya can get her own job and live in her own apartment. In three weeks, after you have done this, I want you to give me [velvet slave]'s passport, driver's license and any other forms of identification. I'll keep this in a safety deposit box. You'll be Tonya from then on."