tagNonConsent/ReluctanceFictional Fantasies Ch. 01

Fictional Fantasies Ch. 01


'I literally can't remember the last time I got laid,' joked Luke, rubbing a hand across his blond stubbly chin. 'Probably a charity shag on Valentines Day.'

'Huh! Join the club!' Meg grimaced. 'It's probably been nearer a year for me.' Liar, she thought to herself, guiltily picking at her nail varnish. You can treble that estimate.

'Yeah, but Meg, I live in the same house as Beth. Sleep in the same bed. We're supposed to be in loving relationship. Whereas you're...'

'I'm depressingly single and probably way too picky to ever be anything else now.'

'I'm sure that's not true.'

'I'm sure it is! I want a guy who intuitively knows what I want without me having to sit him down and spell it out. That would just blow me away. But he'd need to be a bloody mindreader!' she laughed.

'What is it you want?' asked Luke thoughtfully, his blue eyes crinkling.

'I want my fantasy man to act out my fantasies.'

'And what are your fantasies?' asked Luke quietly, putting his feet on the coffee table in front of him.

'A secret,' smiled Meg, cradling her glass of wine. 'You see my problem?'

'Do you think if I knew Beth's secret fantasies, she'd want me again? We used to shag like rabbits. I used to be what she needed,' said Luke sadly.

'Perhaps,' ventured Meg. 'Have you talked to her about it? Can you ask her?'

Luke shook his head.


'I couldn't read someone's diary!' said Luke shocked. 'Besides, I don't think she keeps one.'

'Favourite books, films?' Luke looked blank.

'I hate to say it Luke, but I'm not sure you're paying enough attention,' said Meg, swallowing the last of her wine and placing her glass carefully on the table. 'Right, shall I take a quick look at this problem with your computer before I go?'

Sitting at the computer in the study, Meg admired the photographs adorning the small, cosy room in which she sat. Most of them were of Luke and Beth in various sunny locations, smiling, sometimes clearly drunk, but always seemingly happy. Although they'd met many times, Meg and Beth had never been close friends; Beth always seemed a little apprehensive that Luke could have a platonic female friend who wasn't a threat. Meg also represented the single life Luke had before they had met; it hadn't been particularly wild or exciting, but all the same, Beth had obviously not been a part of it and regarded it with suspicion.

The software update Meg was installing for Luke seemed to be taking forever and she was running out of activities to do while she waited. Standing up and stretching, Meg wandered over to the window and stared dreamily outside. It was a fantastic English summer's day; the sun shone hot and bright through clear blue skies. Dark, thick, green foliage of the surrounding oak trees stood out in a direct contrast and a heat haze was starting to build. All in all, it was an absolutely perfect day for the beach, which co-incidentally was where she was heading in a few minutes. Bliss!

And talking about bliss, the most gorgeous man Meg had ever seen was wandering half-naked around the garden. Ducking down, to stay out of his line of vision, Meg watched a tall, well-muscled, dark-haired man digging beside the shed. With sweat visibly running down his naked torso and denim shorts torn at the knee, Meg could see the pronounced muscles in his forearms and taut stomach as he worked. Gosh, he must be fit, achieving that level of strenuous exercise on such a hot day. Pity she didn't have a reason to hire a gardener, but he might become suspicious to be called in just to tend to the flowerpots on her patio! Hearing Luke's footsteps approaching, Meg mentally shook herself and turned to face the door.

'Nearly there!' said Meg in an over-bright voice, trying to ignore the hot flush that had appeared across her neck and chest from watching the gardener.

'Thanks so much, Meg,' smiled Luke. 'You know how utterly computer illiterate I am!'

'I certainly do!' agreed Meg. Concentrating on the screen, she hit the enter key a couple of times with a flourish. 'Right, that's all done. New anti-virus software installed. So now the boring stuff's out of the way, are you sure you can't come to the beach with me?'

Stripped to the waist, Jack strode into the kitchen, making a beeline for the sink. He downed a pint of water in seconds, immediately running the tap for a refill.

'Phew! Its crazy hot out there little bro!' he said, wiping beads of sweat from his face with his forearm.

'Yeah, looks it,' replied Luke distantly.

'Any time you wanna help out,' said Jack with heavy sarcasm. 'Be my guest.'

'Sorry. Stuff on my mind.'

'Yeah? Who was the girl?'

'Meg,' replied Luke.

Jack looked quizzically at his younger brother and shrugged.

'I'm sure I've mentioned her before,' explained Luke. 'All those years ago, while you were away slumming it in Edinburgh...'

'I'm not sure five years at university studying veterinary medicine quite constitutes slumming it,' interrupted Jack laughing.

'You say potato, I say pot-ato,' Luke shrugged. 'Anyway, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted. Whilst you were slumming it, Megan and I were living the high life at sixth form college. She was one of my best mates.'

'Just a mate?' questioned Jack. 'You sure? She's pretty cute.'

'Course I'm sure,' replied Luke. 'She's my friend. And ten times better than any of the high maintenance, shallow women you've ended up with over the years.'

'Thanks. None taken,' said Jack sardonically. 'Sounds like you're trying to set me up on a date.'

'No chance! I wouldn't do that to her! Although Mum would view her as perfect daughter-in-law material.' Jack rolled his eyes. 'But she's way too sweet for the likes of you,' retorted a grinning Luke.

'Just as well,' replied Jack, raising his eyebrows. 'I can't think of anything more boring than going on a date with Miss Perfectly Innocent Goody-two-shoes! I saw her on your computer, by the way.'

Luke nodded. 'Yes.'

'What was she doing?'

'A favour for me.'

'Huh! How very secretive. Mind if I go and check my emails before I get back outside?'

'Course not. And then, if you're very lucky, I might come and give you a hand outside.'

'Wow, I'm honoured. You're going to help me work in your garden?'

Unlike his brother, Jack's technology skills were exceptional. With his interest in Meg piqued, he navigated his way methodically through the deleted internet history which had accidentally been left in the trash folder. Jack discovered that Meg had briefly logged into a writers chat room; a site to which she hadn't actively logged back out again. Using her still enabled login, Jack scanned through her private messages and posts, slowly piecing together an extremely interesting picture. It looked as though the oh-so-innocent Meg had herself a secret hobby. Writing erotic fiction, no less, under the pen name of Jamie Mitchell.

Jack scanned a number of the online stories that Meg had recently submitted and felt himself starting to grow hard. So not quite the straight arrow that her brother believed her to be then? How very interesting. With Jack's fascination in this girl suddenly ignited, he leaned back quietly in the chair, ran his fingers through his hair and let his mind race. He had a direct route to Meg's most private, secretly intimate sexual fantasies and, unlike his brother, Jack's moral compass, on the rare occasion that it worked at all, never pointed true north. This was definitely a situation he wanted to exploit to his full advantage. Time to subtly quiz an unsuspecting Luke for some useful background information on Meg.


It had been several weeks, but Meg still found her thoughts flitting to the tall, exceptionally sexy gardener that she'd caught a tantalising glimpse of. After a light dinner one evening, Meg sank blissfully into the corner section of her sofa and flipped open her laptop. Her fictional hero, Sam awaited her and she smirked at the thought of what naughty deeds she would type out for him to undertake tonight. However, before starting work, she logged on to the writers chat room to check for any messages.

Several of the usual suspects were logged in to the public chat room and what looked like a heated discussion regarding royalty payments seemed to be taking place. Just as Meg was about to log back out a window popped up, asking if she was willing to have a private chat with a user who went by the name NimbleKimble. Meg accepted and waited as a message was typed to her.

[NimbleKimble]: Hi, thanks for accepting my invitation.

[JMitchell]: No problem.

[NimbleKimble]: I've read your stories and have a few questions, if you don't mind?

[JMitchell]: Sure. Fire away.

Seconds later, a new message appeared. The person at the other end must be touch-typing at a formidable speed. Good punctuation too, which was always a bugbear of Meg's.

[NimbleKimble]: When you write your lead character Sam, are you writing from direct experience?

[JMitchell]: God, I wish!

[NimbleKimble]: So it's all just fantasy?

[JMitchell]: Not all but mostly, yes.

[NimbleKimble]: Then you have a very active imagination then, I commend you. What would you do if your partner suddenly played out one of the scenes you had written?

[JMitchell]: I'd be a very happy girl. But I'd also know I was dreaming. I neither have a partner, nor know anybody who is able to link my pen name and my real name.

[NimbleKimble]: OK, not a partner. Say me, for example. Imagine if I found out the truth and, for one night only, I became Sam. Wouldn't that be an example of real life being way preferable to fiction? Would you go through with it?

Meg paused, unsure of how to respond. My God. That would be her dream; somebody who understood her, deep down. Instinctively and intuitively knew what she wanted, how she needed to be touched. Whilst Meg's thoughts were racing away with her, further comments were being typed. Glancing at them, she wasn't afraid to admit that they made her breath turn fast and shallow, whilst an insistent pulse began to beat between her legs.

[NimbleKimble]: Sam wouldn't be handcuffing some nameless brunette to the bed; he'd be restraining you.

[NimbleKimble]: His fingers would tease your body.

[NimbleKimble]: His tongue would snag across your nipples.

[NimbleKimble]: It would all be happening to you. For real.

[JMitchell]: Sorry, for the pause. Just taking a cold shower! But I sadly refer you to my previous answer and that situation won't change.

[NimbleKimble]: Never say never. I hope we speak again soon.

--- NimbleKimble has left the conversation ---


Following an early morning run and an invigorating shower, Luke flipped open his laptop screen and tucked into a bowl of cereal. Deep in thought, he was reading an email from Meg when the back door opened and Jack strolled in. Luke jumped guiltily.

'What you up to mate?' asked Jack, clocking the message straight away. 'Beth not about?'

'No, she's staying with her sister for a few days,' replied Luke closing the laptop screen firmly.

'Everything ok with you two?'

'Sure. Her sister's just had a baby, so Beth's gone there to help.'

Jack nodded, grabbing a glass and the carton of orange juice and sitting down opposite Luke.

'I couldn't help noticing that email was from Meg. Do you need to talk?'

Luke was silent for a long moment and then shook his head.

'Not really. I'm just failing on all fronts with Beth. Meg was trying to offer me some advice on how to fix things.'

Jack raised an eyebrow. This he had to see.

'Can I take a look?' Luke re-opened the laptop, sighed and swung the screen around to face his brother.

'I don't expect you to understand,' said Luke sadly. 'But I really thought Beth was the one. But things just seem to have become stale. She's not interested in me anymore.'

'She's definitely still interested in you, buddy. Besides, why shouldn't I understand that?' questioned Jack, reading carefully down the screen, a look of distinct concentration on his face.

'You've never had a problem with women! They're like bees round honey.'

'That's where you're wrong Lukie. As you pointed out the other week, they're the wrong kind of women. I might be able to attract them, but keeping anything going long term...I envy what you and Beth have, to be honest,' said Jack quietly, looking Luke directly in the eyes.

'But we never seem to have sex anymore,' said Luke sadly.

'Ah, now relationships are not my forte, but sex, I can advise on,' said Jack with a lopsided smile. I reckon Meg's suggestions are a good starting point, but personally, I think the plan is way too tame at the moment. Taking Beth to a nice hotel and buying some sex toys aren't going to set the world alight. You need to go for much more impact.'

'Well, I guess Meg's about as experienced as me on these matters. She's had even fewer partners than I have.'

'Really?' asked Jack, carefully logging that nugget of information. 'Well, sex is basically very easy. You just need to remember a few simple words,' he said, pausing dramatically.

'Respect, honesty... humour?' suggested Luke.

'Viagra, Viagra, Viagra,' said Jack, roaring with laughter.

'Silly git!' chortled Luke. 'I thought you were actually going to help me then.' Jack looked fondly across at him and exhaled slowly.

'Because you're my brother, and only because you're my brother, I will. Really great sex needs four key ingredients; creativity, technique, confidence and possibly most important of all, mischievousness.'

'Mischievousness?' queried Luke with a raised eyebrow.

'Yeah. Push her boundaries. No actually, on second thoughts, blow her boundaries out of the water! Tease her until she screams. Make her beg with longing for you.'

'How the hell do I do that?' asked a perplexed looking Luke.

'Don't look so worried, mate. It's a lot of fun. Let me explain...' grinned Jack.


Meg considered herself lucky to live within the vicinity of a rural creative writing retreat, which regularly ran short residential writing courses. As well as attending interesting lectures, she was able to meet and swap valuable ideas with other students. Meg was signed up to attend a number of short courses during the summer. Part of the allure, she wasn't afraid to admit, was the overnight accommodation package. Each student was provided with their own private cottage and these were scattered throughout the large estate. The facilities included a swimming pool, sauna, a nearby private beach and fantastic all-inclusive restaurant.

Arriving at lunchtime, Meg settled happily into her little cottage and then strolled to the main building to attend an afternoon lecture and workshop led by Scott Martin. Scott was a successful novelist and definitely Meg's favourite lecturer at the retreat. Recognising a number of previous attendees, Meg spent a happy afternoon alongside them, debating plot and characterisation, followed by a delicious meal and a couple of glasses of wine. She meandered happily back to her cottage at dusk and sank contentedly into an exquisitely comfortable king-sized bed.

From a far away place, woken from deep slumber, Meg inhaled, slow and deep. It was pitch black and felt like the middle of the night. How very annoying to wake at such an inconvenient time and she was having such a pleasant dream until that point as well. The dream floated away from her grasp, but memories of a tall, chiselled, sexy gardener remained with her. Slowly rotating her shoulder, she realised she couldn't move her arm. In fact, she couldn't move either arm...or her legs. Struggling, Meg's heart rate suddenly shot up as adrenalin rushed through her body and her predicament was realised; she was laying face down on the bed, spreadeagled, with her wrists and ankles bound to each of the four corners. She went to shout for help, but out of the darkness a hand came forward to cover her mouth.

'If you scream, I will gag you. If you don't scream, you can stay as you are. I am not going to hurt you.' As the hand was removed, Meg noted his voice was deep, strong and confident, with a hint of a Scottish accent.

'Let me go. Please,' she begged.

'I can't do that.'

'What do you want?'

'It is probably I who should be asking that question. Now, I'm going to tie a blindfold over your eyes so I can turn the light on.'

'No, please. Please let me go,' begged Meg hopelessly as silk material was fastened around her head.

'I'm sorry but I can't do that,' he repeated. 'And very shortly, I promise that you won't want me to.' Meg heard the click of the bedside lamp but thanks to the blindfold saw only darkness.

'That's better.'

'What do you want?'

'I'm only here for one purpose, Meg. Your pleasure,' he murmured.

'You're a rapist?' mumbled a terrified Meg into the pillow.

'Of course I'm not!' spoke the deep voice. Even in Meg's frightened state, she recognised the tone of mild outrage and it made her feel slightly calmer.

'Who are you?'

'Why don't you call me Sam?'

Meg lay there disbelievingly. This could not be happening. Being blindfolded had heightened her other senses and she was very aware of the man walking about the room, moving items around. She pulled down on her restraints but to no avail. Her mind was churning through the men on the course with her and whether they might potentially be this man. Nobody had a voice this deep though and no-one was Scottish. Her chaotic thoughts were rudely interrupted as he began to speak once more.

'You must have worked out what's going to happen next? You've lived this scene a thousand times in your head. Now it's going to happen for real.'

'No,' she moaned. 'Please stop.' Meg's brain felt foggy and slow. How had he worked out who she was? She had never told anyone her pen name; never shared her secret. And which scene was he referring to? Or perhaps it was better not to know what was coming next. Behind her, Meg could hear the sound of scissors as the intruder cut through both straps of her silk black camisole, and then straight down the length of the material, leaving her naked, accessible and fully exposed to whatever he had planned. Meg gasped loudly. She was completely vulnerable.

'You're afraid,' said the stranger's voice softly.

'Of course I am!'

'What are you afraid of?'

'That you'll hurt me. That you'll do something I don't want.'

'I promise I have no intention of doing either of those things.' Meg felt the bed drop a little as the man sat down on the bed beside her.

'I'll make you a deal,' he said. 'Give me ten minutes. During that time, I won't do anything you aren't comfortable with. After ten minutes, if you want me to leave, I will.'

'OK,' replied Meg apprehensively.

'I haven't quite finished yet,' said the man and Meg could hear a smile in his tone. 'If, after ten minutes, you want me to continue, I will. The price of me continuing is that you submit to something I ask for, if we ever meet again in the future'

'That's fine,' said Meg quickly. 'I won't want you to continue.' He chuckled.

'Be careful Meg. You are dealing with an unknown quantity with me. You don't know what I'm capable of but you will shortly.'

'I'm sure you're...'

'Shhh. In an hour's time, when you are begging me to help you come, we can revisit this conversation then.' Meg gasped at his words and the assured confidence and certainty with which he spoke them. She felt movement on the bed and some tapping.

'Right, I've set the timer on my phone for 10 minutes. So let's begin.'

Through the darkness, Meg could feel drops of warm oil cascading across her spine, between her buttocks and down the back of each leg. At first, he gently stroked his palms across her body, smoothing the oil into her skin. His touch was warm, gentle and soft and Meg was soon breathing deep and slow. Picking up on her relaxation, he gradually ramped up the pressure, commencing what would become a mind-blowing massage for Meg. His strong fingers worked relentless into her tense neck and shoulder muscles, forcing them into submission, making her relax despite the circumstances. As she lay there, inhaling deeply, he leant across her and she thought she caught a scent of him; clean, tangy, expensive.

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