Wishful Thinking

I wish creating a moment were as easy as dreaming up a fantasy.

By Nikodem Nijaki (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

I’m craving sitting with someone, blindfolded, their hand around my neck.  Not to choke me, but to provide  balanced and remind me that I am not alone.  My tongue stuck between two chopsticks while my lover drips hot wax onto my tongue, reciting a vow of silence.


3 thoughts on “Wishful Thinking

  1. Sere Maddox says:

    So the lover who is dripping the wax is reciting a vow of silence? Are they vowing to remain silent, or vowing to silence you? If they are vowing to silence you, I can see a signet ring being pressed into the wax, “sealing” your tongue, but if they are vowing to be silent, then that’s another thing entirely.

    To set the stage, where in your fantasy does this take place? What is adorning the rest of your body, what clothes (if any) and in what posture?

    For example: In my mind you’re wearing a simple, deep crimson, cotton nightshirt, the chopsticks are carved from black ivory/bone and clasped at either end by crimson embroidery string wound tightly, the ends attached to tiny chimes that quiver and sound with each movement of your head. This scene takes place in a room lit only by a profusion of tea-candles in frosted shot glasses, stacked on several levels of flat river stones – a recessed hot tub (salt water, not chlorine) burbles in the background, waiting to receive your silenced body and that of your lovers after the sealing of your voice – those hands which firmly clasp your neck becoming the ones that will gently massage your body in that hot water as further service – seemingly disembodied themselves, for their owner never makes a sound except to breathe slowly, rhythmically. It is your lover who dominates alone, the one with the hands as a middle and you at the base and the center of this attention. I’m not sure what your lover – the sealer of your voice, will be doing to you. Probably something cruelly sensual and utterly fantastic. Perhaps he will beat a snare drum with his fingers as you perform a slow an sinuous dance to the tune of his fingers and the chopstick chimes, saying more with your eyes and movements then ever your sealed mouth could enunciate. Perhaps your lover will take you, there amongst the candles and stones, eliciting forbidden gasps of pleasure and mews of exquisite agony – inarticulate transgressions to the wax-held vow made moments before?

      1. Sere Maddox says:

        I’m entirely sure you could find all of these props. An excellent scene is often akin to a private theatrical production. Simple or complex, it is the focus and authenticity brought to it by those who employ their roles that creates the bubble of fantasy that can then be explored without impedance. It’s that bubble of “otherspace” that separates “kinky activities” from “altered reality”

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