When I touch myself I imagine the most awful things. Things I would never want in reality. As I touch my thoughts become more disjointed, more extreme and more divorced from reality yet they follow a familiar well worn path.
I imagine myself a slave at some medieval banquet my body barely covered by a humiliating garment that makes my status and availability clear. Thin straps and patches of stained leather smelling of sweat and sex.
The only reason I am dressed at all is for the pleasure of undressing me. The loincloth of my costume is a ragged leather flap scarcely covering my mound. No barrier to curious hands.
In my fantasy I am always slick and wet and ready and in reality when I have these fantasies my hands ensure my body matches the fantasy.
I stand holding a serving tray in my shaking grip while a stranger reaches up between my legs, up to the hot vulnerable flesh of my cunt. The man touching me is not even looking at me. He talks to his friends ignoring me even while his fingers are inside me.
He touches me until I have to ask his permission to climax. I have to ask. I know I will be punished if I come without permission.
In reality I say the words out loud, asking, begging.
In the fantasy sometimes permission is given and I reach orgasm in front of everyone. Sometimes I am ignored and I climax helplessly knowing harsh punishment awaits me.
In reality sometimes the fantasy ends here with my masturbatory orgasm matching my fantasy climax. When I was younger I would come with feelings of shame and humiliation fantasy and reality mixing. I would end the fantasy as quickly as I could when my needs were met. Now I am more accepting of those needs. I will prolong the fantasy and my own pleasure.
I imagine the lord of the banqueting hall, a king, sometimes a queen, sometimes they resemble someone I know but most often just a faceless figure who has command over me.
They make me tell the banquet the story of my capture, of what was done to me in the dungeons to break me to this submissive state. Often I will be a rival queen or the wife or daughter of an enemy. My fantasies become dark and detailed. Alone in my bed I whisper the words aloud as my hands move faster on my body.
This is most commonly when I reach my release in reality. I apall myself with the extent of my depravity and invention but I cannot deny the ecstasy. I let the fantasy continue as long as I need it. When I am done I put those twisted thoughts to the back of my mind until I need them again.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/103556f/shame_and_pleasure_f4osolosubmissive_fantasy