“Enter your subconscious, Elisa. What do you feel?” It’s his voice, but his mouth doesn’t move. Like an echo, he asks the same question over and over as he guides a metallic device to her labia.

By Anne Lomberg on December 17, 2023

Also available in German

Elisa is desperate. For a week now, she has been bleary-eyed, tossing and turning all the time, and can’t find any peace. She’s afraid of falling asleep because when she finally does, she dreams the same thing every night, wakes up drenched in sweat and wet between her thighs, and can’t help but satisfy her craving as soon as possible. Orgasm after orgasm floods her with longing feelings for that one experience where one person remains in the shadows. It’s not about the person but what the person does to her. Something that drives her to the highest ecstasy, something that determines the rest of her day like a heavyweight. Only when she realizes this dream will she be able to sleep peacefully again, she thinks and starts searching the internet for all the BDSM studios in town.

A flood of agencies and private providers makes Elisa ponder. Does she want a Master or a Mistress, and wouldn’t she feel more comfortable if she could keep her eyes closed to really sense her dream experience? With a selected list of phone numbers, she paces up and down her apartment. Elisa is determined to end this haunting and would choose the voice that triggers something in her. Be it a pleasant tingling or a tugging sensation in her stomach area, she would listen very carefully and make a decision. After several sobering conversations and only a few numbers left, a sense of exhaustion overcomes her. Frustrated, Elisa slumps in her living room chair, the ticking of the wall clock getting louder and louder as suddenly the cell phone next to her vibrates. A shiver runs down her spine. Curious, she glances at the display, which reads, “Sir Ian is already expecting you!” With directions and a link to his website. How had he gotten her number? Had one of her recent calls encouraged someone to forward her request? Wide awake, Elisa jumps out of her chair and runs to the kitchen to check the website on her laptop.

-Experience the epitome of discreet luxury in BDSM- a man with long hair stands in a mystical forest; in another picture, he sits in a sumptuous room surrounded by thousands of books, a soft light embraces his figure. You can only see him from behind, but what Elisa recognizes immediately affects her body. Her palms begin to sweat, a pleasant warmth rises in her abdomen, and a first fire develops between her thighs. Without further thought, she writes back, announcing her arrival in an hour at the mentioned location, a castle outside London.

“For dream interpretation this way,” says the note, which lies under a stone in front of the castle’s grand entrance. Elisa carefully pushes her way through the metal door, which is at least twice her size. The smell of sandalwood and burnt sage wafts through her nose, the floor cracking under her feet with each step, yielding strangely as if walking on clouds. As soon as she enters the foyer, she stops and looks up in awe. There seem to be countless floors, merging into stairs upon stairs. Where is the beginning, and where is the end? She can’t remember ever seeing a building like this; it seems fairy-tale, almost mystical. Rustling welcomes her like a mild autumn breeze as someone blindfolds her from behind. Her hands grab the blindfold, through which she can only dimly perceive her surroundings. Like the softest silk touching her skin, she feels secure and allows herself to be guided by the man holding her hand. After crossing many rooms, a door opens squeakily without any external influence. Elisa looks at her hand resting in his and feels a slight pressure that encourages her to finally get to the bottom of her dream.

As they entered the room, she could watch through her blindfold how Sir Ian got down on his knees to remove her pants and knickers. Elisa waits patiently for the next announcement, but so far, he hasn’t spoken, and even now, it is solely his touches guiding the way. She notices the smell of leather and remembers the photographs with Sir Ian’s back view. He was wearing a leather jacket; it must be the same one he is wearing now, she thinks, because, with every movement, she hears the creaky sounds caused by friction. Elisa, dressed only in a blindfold and knit sweater, tries to sense the room’s interior; she thinks of the countless times she has been to the gynecologist, an image that has dominated her dreams ever since.

“Enter your subconscious!” Was that his voice? She can’t define it. It sounded like it came from speakers blasting the whole room. The roaring in her ears gets louder before it becomes completely silent. His hand leads her to a cushioned chair. Elisa sits down, her upper body gently leaning back as Sir Ian places one foot after another on a footrest. Birdsong and the scent of rain surround her. How can this be? She thinks, trying to calm her pulse. Her exposed sex and the clanking of instruments make her uneasy, yet she feels a sense of comfort. She was here before; this is the dream that needs to be lived. Through her blindfold, Elisa tries to make sense of everything and fit the pieces together. She sees Sir Ian preparing a tray with many metallic instruments, rolling a stool to her feet, and using a remote control to move her chair up. With her legs spread wide, the first drops of arousal make their way to her butt. Elisa breathes in and out deeply as Sir Ian grips her ankles. His hands are strong, flooding her with a comforting warmth. Only vaguely can she recognize his face; it is somehow blurred, his long hair hiding his identity. He takes off his leather jacket, then pushes the tray closer to him and rolls his stool between her thighs.

“Enter your subconscious, Elisa. What do you feel?” It’s his voice, but his mouth doesn’t move. Like an echo, he asks the same question over and over as he guides a metallic device to her labia. The cold metal inflames Elisa to such an extent that a heavy sigh escapes her lips. Sir Ian slowly moves the instrument up and down between her moist labia before inserting the tip into her vagina. The shape consists of several balls and gets thicker and thicker the deeper he penetrates her. Her inner walls receive the metallic instrument by twitching and producing more and more secretion until the last bullet is finally inside her. Elisa sighs and breathes quickly; she is completely filled and longs for more stimulation. As if Sir Ian could read minds, he places a vibrator on her clit and simultaneously moves the bullet instrument back and forth inside her vagina. Elisa’s hands cling to the armrests, and her ankles press against the footrest frame. She spreads her legs more, wanting to give him full access and finally achieve enlightenment. But before the gate of wisdom opens, Sir Ian gives her multiple orgasms. She cums from the powerful vibrations at her clit, she cums from the quick thrusts of the bullet instrument stretching her wide, she cums from the warm juices gathering around her butt.

“It’s time … time … time!” The words doubled, tripled as if one had overlaid a phonogram with the same voice. The air thickens, humid like a small Swedish sauna, as Sir Ian pulls another instrument from the tray. Elisa only recognizes the shape of a stick under her blurry vision and a delicate shimmer changing between his fingers. What the hell is that? She thinks, and the voices around her grow louder. “Enter your subconscious, it’s time.” As Sir Ian thrusts the stick into her vagina with a jerk, the following scene takes place in front of her inner eye: Elisa is seven years old, playing in her nursery with her girlfriend, doctor, and patient. She is lying on her back and holding a thermometer, a small, simple stick made of metal and fake numbers. As she looks down at her red and white polka dot dress and hands the thermometer to her girlfriend, she timidly spreads her legs. It’s the moment that changes everything for her. The cool metal touching her inner walls for the first time becomes an unprecedented desire. It is the beginning of a growing longing, a recurring dream.

Drenched in sweat, Elisa wakes up in her living room chair, the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock penetrating her drowsiness as she rushes to the kitchen instead of satisfying her craving as quickly as possible. Hastily, she enters the name Sir Ian – BDSM – London into her laptop and can’t believe what she sees. It’s the same castle, the same environment, the same man with a leather jacket and long hair whose face always remains in the dark.

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