Sold By Those I Love Book Two of The Rachel Trilogy
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Dark Fantasy Trilogy free porn video
Dark Fantasy Trilogy: Prelude To A Dream
"To sleep, perchance to dream..."
There is a fringe group within my local BDSM club scene known colloquially as 'The Roundabout Gang'. This group of twenty or so men and women, besides being members of the BDSM club I belong to, are also members of a swinger's club in town. When they attend functions at the BDSM club they will arrive en masse later in the night and don't usually mingle much with other members. Ever since it was first pointed out to me who this group was, I got the feeling of a very strong 'Us and Them' attitude prevalent. The view of those in the 'Us' group seemed to be that 'Them' (The Roundabout Gang) didn't play by any of the unwritten but inherently established 'rules' of BDSM engagement - the whole 'Safe, Sane and Consensual' credo often being cited.
While I used to sit and silently listen to discussions like this, I did get the distinct impression many in the 'Them' group looked at 'Us' as being so orthodox in our views as to be almost as bad, if not worse than anybody in the Vanilla world - a world generally agreed by both 'Us' and 'Them' as a place from which we all wanted to escape. I enjoyed playing the BDSM games of the 'Us' group and felt comforted to be accepted as a part of that scene and its small rebellion from the Vanilla world I had long felt trapped in. However, as much as I felt comforted by the acceptance of my friends in the 'Us' group, I also felt rejected in equal amounts by 'Them'.
It's difficult to put into words how this made me feel. I supposed the simplest explanation is I am a person who has always felt insecure unless I had the acceptance of everybody. I have an innate desire to make everybody happy and most of all, the people who probably care for me least. In short, I felt myself slipping deeper and deeper into a dark and lonely crevice between the two groups, much like the divide I by now felt separating me from the Vanilla world I'd once known. More than this, the 'invisibility' that used to stalk me and withhold the acceptance I craved in the Vanilla world had followed me into my BDSM world and it felt like nobody noticed or cared that I was falling from view.
Themes of abandonment are strong in my darkest fantasies. In this particular fantasy, as I look up the ragged walls of the emotional ravine I've slipped into, I see my husband and our kinkster friends above. They stand on the edge of the precipice with their backs to me. I can at times hear them chatting and laughing; at other times, speaking ponderously about the nature of dominance and submission or making inane judgment calls on things that might define people into their neat, tidy compartments.
At the top on the other side of this imagined abyss stand many men and women from The Roundabout Gang. None of their faces are really clear except for those of Julienne and her husband, Mike. In the past, whenever I saw them at the club, they always seemed to studiously avoid me as if my connection with the BDSM club and my friends in it branded me a pariah to 'Them'. Now, as I struggle before them so clearly in need of some kind of lifeline, their faces beam with wicked delight.
A rope ladder is thrown down to me. I see it right beside me within easy reach. All I have to do is grab hold of it and climb out of the darkness -- to be rescued. It's a choice I have to make and one that frightens me. Below me, if I don't accept the escape offered, is the certainty of plummeting into the blackness of oblivion. Above me, the hands I see all calling me to grab hold of the ladder are the hands of strangers who I am sure would rather rape me than rescue me. But it's still my choice and mine alone to make. I look one last time toward the other side of the emptiness for any signs of a third choice, but there is none. The edge on which my husband and friends once stood has receded from sight; the sounds of their voices now nothing more than distant echoes.
This might be all a dream except for the fact I fear any awakening before it's complete will leave me lost in the limbo it has conjured. I grab hold of the ladder and slowly begin my ascent. Or is it a descent? I'm climbing but at the same time there is a sensation of falling still deeper. My mind is reeling just as Alice's had when she fell into the rabbit hole portal to Wonderland. Things that were up are now down; big becomes small and the trivial, profound. My clothes fall away from me as I struggle in the direction of The Roundabout Gang. I can sense the energy of the conversations they're having. They're animated and filled with the sound of excitement, but nothing is clear to me and all I can hear is babble.
As I near the top of the ladder, the hands that clawed the air reaching for me now have hold around my wrists. They are the large hands of strong men and I feel myself being lifted from the beyond. Or maybe they're the hands of women? My eyes are fully open but I can't see anything clearly. I'm completely naked by the time I'm lifted clear of the abyss. More hands grab hold of me. The only faces I can clearly identify are those of Julienne and Mike. She is saying something; I can't make out the words. I look at Mike's face and try to fathom what is being said. His mouth is moving too, but I can't hear anything. There's just the sound of my own pulse pounding rapidly and loudly in my ears. It's as if my head has been trapped inside an invisible cocoon. A blindfold is slipped over my head and I am plunged into total darkness - a frightening darkness.
The last thing I can remember seeing is a glimpse of the inside of a large room. It's a room I've been in once before. A few years ago, when The Roundabout Gang had a BDSM night at their club and a few of 'Us' went along, just out of curiosity. Nothing happened there that wouldn't have happened at any of our regular club nights, but I spent the entire evening wondering 'what if?' Back then, I had felt free to dream my dark dreams because I was safely surrounded by my familiar kinkster friends. Now, as yet more hands of unfamiliar strangers grab hold of my ankles to carry me somewhere, I feel no such envelope of safety.
I struggle and cry out, but no sounds penetrate the invisible bubble surrounding my head. Outside that bubble is the sound of a crowd of people. I can scarcely hear what they're saying above the din of the loud, pulsating music that fills their club, but I'm convinced it is talk of the perverse things they intend doing to me. I can feel fingers penetrating my vagina and then laughter. I'm suddenly acutely aware of my own wetness and the aroma of my arousal. The embarrassing assault on my senses causes my face and ears to burn.
The hands on my wrists and ankles hold me spread and vulnerable as I'm carried through their club. I am totally disorientated in the darkness of my blindfold, but instincts tell me I'm being taken to one of the private rooms at the back of building. They're rooms I remember overhearing somebody talk about that one night earlier when my kinkster friends and I had visited their club. I never got the chance to actually see inside any of them, but heard enough to know it was where The Roundabout Gang 'initiated' all the new swingers.
The very word itself - initiate - sent a chill down my spine. There was no doubt in my mind what was meant by it. I would be taken into one of those back rooms and gangbanged, probably restrained as well so I couldn't escape until everybody who wanted to use me had done so. And so begins my darkest fantasy...
Dark Fantasy Trilogy: Manifestation Of A Dream"Henceforward I am ever ruled by you." -- Juliet (Shakespeare)
You want to know what turned me on most about revealing my darkest fantasy? It was that moment when I first heard you ask whether I'd tell you a secret. Right then and there, in an infinitesimal moment, it was as if you'd already glimpsed all my deepest, darkest fantasies bottled up within me. After that, all that remained for me to do was loosen the cork so the dark genie of truth within my soul could escape.
From that day on, I lived with an ever-increasing paradoxical sense of both release and tension. The dark fantasies that lurked in my heart were finally being drawn out and this gave me a sense of relief after such a long time of struggling to keep them contained. But at the same time was the tension and anxiety of the date you'd set. I had marked it discreetly on my kitchen calendar with a simple and almost imperceptible black dot on a Friday - the same Friday that was notable for being the beginning of a weekend that husband and family would all be away leaving me alone to act out the fantasy I revealed to you.
There was many times leading up to that Friday when I felt compelled to tell somebody else besides you about what was planned. It was a desperate need and yet, every time I came close to confessing I felt the invisible hand of my fantasy genie pull me back. Outwardly, I must have looked as normal as ever and never once displayed any signs of the inner turmoil that gripped me. On the morning of that fateful Friday, I even laughed uneasily when the usual jokes were made about it being a thirteenth - lucky for some, unlucky for others.
Wynona
- 25.03.2021
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