The glorious Miss Irene brings us another tale of a husband who has the temerity to think he can not only have the cake of his sexual fantasies but actually be allowed to eat it.
Until, that is, his even more deviant wife discovers the trip to a certain establishment he has booked himself into whilst supposedly on business in the Czech Republic.
It is a very expensive establishment where the women take their work extremely seriously, so when the deviant wife manages to access her husband’s computer and the account he has opened with the establishment for his stay with them, this before changing the stated requirements for his stay, the dominant and venal females into whose hands he is placing himself are delighted to have finally found a man willing to avail himself of all their facilities and… treatments.
And without the security of a safe-word!
Neither his sexual fantasies nor the life belonging to either his wife or himself will be the same again.
Smut, obscenity, filth, or perhaps just erotic, arousing, artistic and adult fare?
A land of never-never, a mental place where the hopes and wishes of a partner are not an concern, where a library of a million pictures, films and novels lies at the fingertips of the aficionado.
Unreal fantasy that is unlikely to ever happen to the man that views it!
Beautiful willing women, submissive men, impossible scenarios and vain hopes. Perfect partners who fulfil the impractical desires of the addict who, tomorrow, is ready to do it all again. On the flicker of the computer screen late at night when others are asleep, the performers play out their amorous adventures on demand until the watcher finally switches to another virtual make-believe to seek new pleasures.
Never satisfying, never fulfilling, just luring the spectator to pastures new until at last the connection to heaven is broken and the observer has satisfied his need. For now! Tomorrow, next week, he will return, skip through the films that he downloaded already and decide that they no longer satisfy and so he will be on the search for a new and more extreme theme. Step by step the prey is pulled by unseen chains until at last he slips into a fugue of imaginary encounters and desires and lies supine at the feet of those who give everything and nothing.
That is the nature of the beast and it is, after all a beast!
The observer remains just that… a bystander, a spectator until he contemplates, at last, entering the mirror of his wants and sampling it all first hand.
Only his hand and rigid cock take part while he views the interface into that other perfect realm, all the while alert for the unwelcome intervention of the inadequate real world. A wife, a lover who may chance by and expose his real needs.
Observer can become participant; the remote viewer can indeed walk into the fantasy if he has just enough nerve. Because the door is always open even if the observer does not push at it. The same routine that brings all that perceived perfection to his screen can place him in contact with a debauched world that bubbles and froths just beyond the grasping fingertips of the passive viewer.
Be careful, things never ever develop as you imagine!
They rarely do.
They always work out worse.
So much worse.
A life can become obscenity if the sleepwalker stays in the nightmare.
Leonard James’ heart was beating so hard and fast that he could almost hear it in his head. All that he had to do was click on the ‘register’ button on his screen and he would have taken the first step. The form was completed with name and a new email address, the number of his credit card was there in black and white. Now all that the website required was his unconditional assent.
Do not think that the process that had taken Leonard thus far was an easy one!
It is one thing to surf the Internet seeking thrills and wanking material, it is quite another to place one’s trust in a site that promises authentic intimate personal contact. Especially, when the personal tastes of the addict are so totally left of conventional that society will make an outcast of the man who is exposed.
For a moment he hesitated and then finally he clicked the mouse button and the commitment was made. There was a pause, perhaps just a few seconds before the billing information was shown and he was asked again to confirm his transaction. Again a chance to slip from the leash that he was fastening around his neck, another heart stopping decision that he made with a small sigh.
The thought of actually having a leash around his neck passed his mind and he smiled.
He was in! He was now a real customer and no longer a mere fantasist who feared to make his dreams real. The screen darkened and he could now see if the actuality of the carefully chosen site matched his hoped-for need. Leonard admired the photos and marvelled at how closely they matched his idea of what was erotic. Quickly he skipped through the introductory passages and looked at the small thumbnails of the women who were offering to fulfil his dreams.
For a sum.
He sat back in the chair and stared at the galleries. Took them in and try to decide the passions and thoughts of the women who stared haughtily back at him.
Each picture was headed by a single word that was a prompt to reveal his sexual and intimate tastes. In his whole life, Leonard had never allowed himself to utter his sexual needs to any other person. Not his girlfriends, not his wife and not a single one of his acquaintances, friends or family. He had never dared admit his obsession even to himself. Now he had to face exposure, because to fall at this fence by being too bashful would lead him to the same disappointment that he had suffered with every other partner.
Leonard read the introductory words above the galley more carefully and realised that these pictures were a test that the website was imposing to help them decide what it was that he wanted. He would choose from the pictures and would then be presented with further similar choices that would lead to a knowledge of his needs.
Carefully, he considered the pictures and tried to look beyond the pixels at the ladies who commanded his attention. The picture of a woman in a fur coat who stood by a red sports-car. The pose was casual, but she had a smile on her face that was magnetic and in her gloved hand she held a leash that trailed to the ground. She was a rich bitch, a woman who knew what she wanted and would get it no matter what the cost to anyone else. The enormously fat woman who looked down at a naked man in a cage with a cattle prod in her hand. A woman clad in sheer latex who sat on a throne. In one outstretched hand a cigarette that leaked a curl of smoke. In the other hand, the cuffs that her man should wear. A woman who stood with her hand on the prick that stood rigidly from her. Was it really hers or was it a convincing rubber copy. Leonard looked into her eyes and then at her face but could not decide, was she a he or was he a she?
He clicked the woman in furs, half repelled and half attracted by the woman who might not have been a woman.
The second gallery was a little more explicit. Women stood in various poses dressed in a variety of erotic dress. From old fashioned corsets and girdles to lacy stockings and suspenders. From latex to leather, fur and spandex to naked and shaved, he found that he was torn between two pictures that spoke to him. One was just a latex clad leg the ended in a stiletto that ended in a needle-like heel. The other picture was a woman in a lacy corset in pink. From the teasing and naked to the bizarre and degenerate. Heels, whips, corsets and lace, the choice was so difficult.
Finally he clicked a the woman in the corset who sat on the edge of her bed and opened her legs to reveal a smooth sex that was nothing more than a line in the triangle between her thighs. Leonard was moved to the next gallery.
This time there was no woman to be seen, just a choice of implements that represented all of the things that could happen in the place where he was determined to go. Whips, canes and bamboo rods. From long tailed and fifteen feet in length to small thin canes that looked to be nothing more than stiff wire that would lacerate the skin. He clicked on a leather paddle and was suddenly filled with self-doubt and tried to go back a step to recast his vote.
A dialog came up on the screen: ‘There is no going back!’