Bait
by Jonathan Quince
Saturday, September 18, 2004 20:14:29
Is it forbidden? Then the sweetness of the untouchable fruit shall only bide her lust for it. Is it impossible? Then it shall beckon and tease, goading her to voluptuous flights of fancy. Is it beyond all consideration? Then she shall chase its shadow far with a desperation she would not have for the mundane and achievable.
After all, her defenses and the rules that she lives by are constructed only for that which she has expected to encounter. She has no barrier to protect herself from what is supposed to be unattainable; for verily, the inaccessibility thereof is expected in itself to be the guardian angel keeping her from it. When the unthinkable is suddenly dropped within her reach, its slightest touch shall make her shiver with anticipation; and when faced with such excitements, what walls has she behind which to retreat?
Let the allure of it haunt her idle moments; let the fantasy infiltrate her dreams. May she alternately resist and entertain it until the struggle itself throws sparks into the fuel of her libidinous nature. If she wants to brush it off, let her try; let her shrug at its impracticability; let it smoulder in the corners of her consciousness until she can ignore it no longer, then let it blaze forth as an all-consuming flame of desire.
Let it infuse her with the yearning for me, the hunger for what only I can or will provide. And when her will is thus overcome, let her come to kneel at my feet and beg for a kiss, for a touch, for a taste.
And it is all the better in that my motives for originating the fantasy were pure. I did not contrive it as bait for the trap; rather, it came to me in a flash as I was masturbating, and it filled my body with the glowing warmth of pleasure reaching unto orgasm. Only later did I realize what lush ulterior uses the fantasy might offer to me.