I am 24 (I will probably be unable to reveal my age so easily sometime later, but so far I am comfortable with it...) and I am a university graduate with a degree in architecture. I got married a year ago, but have to live mostly alone, because my husband got a contract in a foreign country, dirty, hot and humid, which I could never get used to, so I bid him good bye and returned to my hometown. At the best, we see each other once in a quarter. His well-to-do parents presented us with a nice country house in the suburbs, where I can indulge in my crazy fantasies.
I remember starting to fantasize about hanging back in my school years, and it was the case of Zoya Kosmodemianskaya (a 17 year-old Russian girl hanged by Germans during WWII, a well-known incident in the history of that war – F.N.), that gave it a start. I was then 10 years old; once raking through an old filing of war-time newspapers in my grandfather’s attic I came across horrible photos and a description of Zoya’s execution. I occasionally had erotic fantasies where violence was involved before then, but since that moment I exactly knew what I wanted.
Since then I would often imagine myself in her place, only in my fantasies I would always be stark naked. I would even draw myself like that and then watch the drawing and play with my pussy. By that time I already knew how the adults did it and my first orgasm I had just like that.
I would also make drawings of boys from my class hanging side by side with me, and eventually these drawings got discovered by my mom! (I simply left them lying on the table). It was an awful shame! To make it even worse my mother was a school principal then! She threatened to tell to my father and at first I was frightened a lot; but later, thinking about this incident, I would become utterly excited! A weird mixture of fright and shame would give out an incredible effect and as a rule ended with a wild orgasm!
I did not quit drawing after that scandal, but had to keep it safe and destroy all my drawings after they had been “used up”. During my senior school years I played with myself in front of a mirror. Stripped naked, stepped onto a small bench and with my hands behind my back imitated a hanged partisan-girl. Once I swiped a thick hemp string from my grandfather and learned how to make a hangman’s noose. When I happened to be at home alone I would get a step-ladder and screw a hook, found in my father’s tools, into the ceiling – I used a hole in the ceiling of my room left after an old chandelier. In this manner, I always had a kind of gallows of my own at hand. Of course, I never made the rope tight, for I did not want to hang for real. But the real noose around my neck added to the thrill of my games.
Then I would look into the mirror and grimace fingering myself until I had an orgasm. The fact that I could not do it with my hands behind my back was somewhat disappointing; the problem was solved when I got a batteries-powered dildo from a friend of mine Lenka for my birthday. Since then I would strike poses in front of the mirror with my hands tied with my own pantyhose behind my back. A tied a piece of cardboard to my nipples, with all my transgressions listed on it, and stuck the dildo into my little cunt. It was unbelievably thrilling!
I never even wondered if other people had similar fantasies, having once and for all believed to my mom that I was a rare pervert.
In my second year in the university, Lenka talked me into going to the countryside for a holiday, where first time in my life I rode a horse; I never made a jockey though - I had a clumsy fall and ended up with my leg in plaster. I got downed for quite a while, but it had a bright side too – my dad eventually gave up and paid for an internet connection, now I could surf where I wanted and as long as I wanted!
And there it was! I discovered to myself Lee, Dolcet, Shooter45 and many others. I started exchanging e-mails with some
guys and had shuttering orgasms reading
their fantasies about myself, and one and all demanded a rendezvous. I agreed to
meet one who wrote the most intriguing letters, but nothing came out of it. Not
that I did not like him, on the contrary, I fancied him a lot, but I just
realized that I would not be able to fulfill my fantasies in the real life. It
is hard to explain why, but I realized that these fantasies and real life did
not mix for me. Since then my romances existed only on paper, to be more
precise, in e-mails. We played this game – I made up a plot and they would write
a short story based on it, in their turn, they would sent me another plot which
I would turn into a story. It worked just superb! We indulged in utter debauch
and depravity in our imagination! Every time I received a letter with a story I
couldn’t wait until my old people would go to bed. Then I would do some thorough
preparations: lock up the door, put a towel on my computer chair so that to not
wet the upholstering with my juices, greased the dildo, stripped naked and tied
a silk scarf or father’s tie around my neck, instead of a noose and start
reading. A good story with a rough and cynical description of a rape followed by
hanging of myself before my folks and friends’ very eyes could make me come two
or three times. Dark circles under my eyes in the morning were too insignificant
a price for the pleasures of night!Copyright by Nadia (2005).
Translated and illustrated by Frol Nickitin (2005).