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Aside
from setting me little humiliating tasks
to do both at home and at work, Mr C
frequently asked me to answer little
questions about myself so that he might
get to know me better and tailor his
challenges to suit things he would
discover about me. One such question he
asked was simply what one thing frightens
you the most? The reply below became part
of a longer group of stories which I
entitled The Lana Letters. Lana (not her
real name) was a character I created for
my earlier blackmail games with Eddie.
Much about her was based on a woman I knew
in real life who had a brief affair with
my husband. There was a time when I felt
an overwhelming urge to have her find out
all about me and though that feeling has
passed the fantasies of what could have
happened remain strongly appealing.
The Lana
Letters
What one
thing frightens me most?
That's a
difficult question to answer as there's
lots of things which, if I stop to think
about them, really frighten me. This
blackmail game we're playing, for example.
I created a photo album folder in our
online group just as you requested and
labeled it Lana Fantasies. Even before I
started uploading any photos into it the
thought that one day she might become a
member of our group. She'd see this
folder, created especially for her as a
testament to the perverse fantasies I've
had for her, and the thought of this
really terrifies me.
It's not
just that she might see the pictures I
uploaded into it. It's not even really all
the pictures there are of me elsewhere in
the group for her to find. It's the
thought that by creating this folder and
relating this one particular fantasy I've
harbored in my thoughts for almost as long
as I've known her would be tantamount to
making an open invitation to her to
fulfill this fantasy of mine in every
frightening detail.
It won't
take Lana long to discover Tuesday nights
are one night of the week on which she
could make a surprise visit to me at work
and there'd be every chance I'd be working
back alone. I often had this dream where
she saunters into the library right before
closing time; that all too familiar smirk
she always had on her face whenever she
saw me all the more alarming now because
I'd know the thing which could have
prompted her to call on me like this would
be the certain knowledge you had been in
touch with her.
I'm
paralyzed with fear as I watch her wander
up to my assistant David, clearly asking
him for directions to my office - probably
after a brief moment of flirting with him
in that way I'd see her do so often with
men of all ages who were total strangers
to her. I don't have time to dwell on how
much this one little habit of hers used to
irritate me. A moment later she's walking
straight into my office and laying on the
smarm - yet another things which gave me
reason to feel such animosity towards her
whenever I saw her in the past. She acts
like it's only yesterday since she say me
and straight away is asking how my husband
is. It's not that she wants to know - I
can tell that instantly. Always could. She
knows that by asking she is immediately
able to make me feel uncomfortable; to
push me to the point where I get so angry
with her I want to explode. Or ignore her.
Either way, I can't because that's just
not my nature and she knows it. This then
makes me feel so mad with myself that I
start to believe that I really do deserve
to be humiliated by her. And this is where
my fantasies about her always begin.
Lana is
one of those women who seems to have some
innate, uncanny power to twist people
around her little finger. I've really
never met anybody quite like her. It's
easy enough to imagine men falling for her
shallow charm, but I could never
understand why women also seemed to come
under her spell. I often wondered to
myself just how many of them must have
also felt the same seething for her that I
felt; the jealous, festering loathing. I
watch helplessly as she wanders around my
office picking up things; touching things;
MY things. She starts to make comments
about things; about art, like she's some
kind of an expert. My god! Is there no end
to her fields of expertise? It drives me
crazy the way she does that, speaking like
a world authority on any subject which is
comes to mind. It also eventually comes
back to sting me when she takes one final
look around my room and all the things
dear to me; my books; my Monet prints on
the wall; my neatly organized piles of
work on my desk; the elegantly framed
intellectual floss of a lifetime dedicated
to study and learning - my two degrees and
a number of lesser awards on the walls
behind me - it's all just ammunition to
Lana. Ammunition she fires with deadly
accuracy when she dismisses all of it with
one frivolous comment to bring me crashing
down to her level.
There's
no need to ask why she's come to visit. I
know. Even without doing anything else
beside being there in MY space, she's able
to humiliate me; to make me feel cheap; to
treat me like an object of no value
whatsoever. Within two minutes of arriving
Lana has managed to turn the tables
completely and make me believe it's ME who
is the one who's old and unattractive.
Lana knows just how to make me feel that
everything I know about the world and the
people in it is wrong. She takes pride in
the fact she lost her virginity when she
was still a teenager; a young teenager at
that. She turns things around so I am
forced to admit I was an idiot waiting as
long as I did to lose mine; saving it, but
for what? All of this she manages to do in
the twinkling of an eye.
In my
fantasies I've lived and relived this
introductory humiliation over and over and
have never understood why I feel that way.
One thing I do know is the only way I
think I'm ever going to know the answer is
to firstly accept that Lana was right all
along and I was wrong. She was right - I
do need to learn some lessons and out of
all the people I could possibly imagine to
teach me them, it's her with all her wily
charms and experience.
The
photo I found to upload into my Lana
Fantasies folder is of a young woman,
completely naked, on her knees, arms bound
at the wrists and elbows behind her back,
another woman behind her tying a gag
tightly in place; the location? It looks
like a library which made me immediately
imagine it was Lana making ready to teach
me my first real lessons in submission and
humiliation.
Since
meeting Lana I've come to know quite a few
dominant women. There's much they all seem
to have in common with Lana but the one
thing which makes Lana distinct from them
is the fact she is genuinely mean and
spiteful, especially towards me. The
question was asked "what one thing
frightens me the most?" and I can only
answer by saying it would be to have Lana
tie me up naked and gag me. Aside from the
fact I hate gags at the best of time,
being gagged and unable to tell Lana to
stop when I wanted her to would be
supremely terrifying for me. The only
consolation I could think of in that
situation would be the gag would probably
spare me from having to pleasure Lana in
any way with my mouth. Are you reading
this Lana?
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