The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies Read online

  Sonia Florens is a writer and translator based in London. She has previously appeared in The Mammoth Book of Erotica series and has been published in various SF and fantasy magazines. She lived in France for many years.

  Recent titles in the Mammoth series

  The Mammoth Book of the Kama Sutra

  The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica

  The Mammoth Book of New Gay Erotica

  The Mammoth Book of Short Erotic Novels

  The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance 2

  The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror 20

  The Mammoth Book of Wolf Men

  The Mammoth Book of Merlin

  The Mammoth Book of Filthy Limericks

  The Mammoth Book of Best New Manga 4

  The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance

  The Mammoth Book of Chess

  The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance

  The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 9

  The Mammoth Book of Alternate Histories

  The Mammoth Book of New IQ Puzzles

  The Mammoth Book of the Best of Best New Horror

  The Mammoth Book of Bizarre Crimes

  The Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance

  The Mammoth Book of Best British Crime 7

  The Mammoth Book of Sex, Drugs & Rock ‘n’ Roll

  The Mammoth Book of Travel in Dangerous Places

  The Mammoth Book of Apocalyptic SF

  The Mammoth Book of Casino Games

  The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance

  The Mammoth Book of Threesomes and Moresomes

  The Mammoth Book of Drug Barons

  The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2

  The Mammoth Book of the World’s Greatest Chess Games

  The Mammoth Book of Tasteless Jokes

  The Mammoth Book of New Erotic Photography

  The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror 21

  The Mammoth Book of Best New SF 23

  The Mammoth Book of Great British Humour

  The Mammoth Book of Scottish Romance

  Constable & Robinson Ltd

  3 The Lanchesters

  162 Fulham Palace Road

  London W6 9ER

  www.constablerobinson.com

  First published in the UK by Robinson,

  an imprint of Constable & Robinson, 2004

  This edition published in the UK by Robinson,

  An imprint of Constable & Robinson, 2011

  Copyright © Sonia Florens 2004 (unless otherwise stated)

  The right of Sonia Florens to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A copy of the British Library Cataloguing in Publication

  Data is available from the British Library

  UK ISBN 978-1-84901-451-9

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  First published in the United States in 2004 by Carroll & Graf Publishers

  This edition published in the United States in 2011 by Running Press Book Publishers All rights reserved under the Pan-American and International Copyright Conventions

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without written permission from the publisher

  9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Digit on the right indicates the number of this printing

  US Library of Congress Control number: 2009943394

  US ISBN 978-0-7624-4002-3

  Running Press Book Publishers

  2300 Chestnut Street

  Philadelphia, PA 19103-4371

  Visit us on the web!

  www.runningpress.com

  Printed and bound in the EU

  Contents

  Sonia Florens

  INTRODUCTION

  Ann (Hartford, USA)

  HIM, AT MY FEET

  Madeline (Toronto, Canada)

  BREAKFAST WITH TIFFANY

  Kate (London, UK)

  THE WATCHER

  Krista (San Diego, USA)

  OF THEE I SING

  Catriona (Caledon, Canada)

  UNICORN’S RAVINE

  Olivia (Ann Arbor, USA)

  NICE TITS

  Rachael (Toronto, Canada)

  POETIC LICENTIOUSNESS

  Margot (Nottingham, UK)

  CUCKOLD HEAVEN

  Lili (San Diego, USA)

  PUPPET

  Donna (Montreal, Canada)

  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MR PRESIDENT

  Allison (Dallas, USA)

  A HOLIDAY TREAT

  Melody (Brighton, UK)

  TELL-TALE TOES

  Kate (Athabasca, Canada)

  MARITAL AIDS

  Autumn (Porterville, USA)

  ENCORE PERFORMANCE

  Jenny (Lumberton, USA)

  SPANKING FANTASY

  Janet (St Paul, USA)

  THURSDAYS AT MCKINNEY’S

  Deva (Brisbane, Australia)

  MY INITIATION

  Flora (Garden City, USA)

  SAY IT

  Justine (London, UK)

  THE CONFESSION

  Marie (Ann Arbor, USA)

  LESSONS LEARNED

  Bekka (Birmingham, UK)

  TICKET TO RIDE

  Lee (Arcadia, USA)

  ALL ABOUT ME

  Valerie (Los Angeles, USA)

  JACK KEROUAC, MY LOVER

  Louise (Leicester, UK)

  A BIT OF DISCIPLINE

  Julia (San Francisco, USA)

  STRATEGY

  Rebecca (Sydney, Australia)

  ONLY FOR MY HUSBAND

  Robin (New Haven, USA)

  TOOTHIN’ IT

  Christina (Catford, Canada)

  DUNGEON

  Brittany (Minneapolis, USA)

  COME TO THE PHONE

  Claudia (Victoria, Australia)

  THE LIBRARIAN

  Heather (Dundee, Scotland)

  THREE-WAY PLAY

  Anya (Toronto, Canada)

  BALTIMORE

  Kim (San Diego, USA)

  MY SEVEN LOVERS

  Rene (Edinburgh, Scotland)

  NASSAU HANGOVER

  Corinne (Atlanta, USA)

  IT’S ALL IN THE MIND

  Violet (Vancouver, Canada)

  CORPORATE BLONDE

  Blossom (Dublin, Ireland)

  TOYBOY

  Lena (Oakland, USA)

  BUTTERFIELD 8 FOR 4

  Heather (Glasgow, Scotland)

  BLUE EYES

  Jade (Derby, UK)

  DIRTY GIRL

  Dara (Hoboken, USA)

  AT THE WINDOW AS HE WATCHES

  Wendy (Nottingham, UK)

  CAPTIVATED

  Ciana (Fairfield, USA)

  COGNAC

  Edita (Toronto, Canada)

  THE MATING

  Jessica (Berkeley, USA)

  MEN IN HIGH PLACES

  Jayden (Hancock, USA)

  JESSIE’S GIRL

  Sabrina (Edmonton, Canada)<
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  HOME STUDY

  Lydia (New Orleans, USA)

  SKIRTS AND SHOES

  Nola (Toronto, Canada)

  CONDUCT UNBECOMING

  Karen (Albuquerque, USA)

  WORK IS PLAY

  Dahlia (Berlin, Germany)

  THE GIFT

  Amanece (Puerto Rico)

  AMANECE’S STORY

  Liza (London, UK)

  DEBT COLLECTING

  Introduction

  Sonia Florens

  What do women want in their deepest, darkest dreams?

  This book will give you a few clues. And you might be surprised at some of the answers. The world has moved on since Nancy Friday’s groundbreaking Secret Garden; and women’s fantasies have moved on, too.

  Women fantasize about all sorts of things. Many start with the familiar – going shopping, having lunch with a friend, sitting at your desk at work on a dull day – and one tiny change will suddenly spin life into the exotic. In It’s All in the Mind, a hen night with your girlfriends turns into seduction by a sexy stranger. The simple act of making breakfast, in Breakfast With Tiffany, showcases the erotic potential of food. Visiting a good friend for the weekend, in Lessons Learned, turns into erotic revelation.

  Some themes are exactly what men might expect: women thinking about sex with a powerful man such as their tutor (Poetic Licentiousness) or their boss (A Holiday Treat). Thinking about how to spice up a jaded marriage (Butterfield 8 for 5), having sex with a stranger (The Watcher) and initiation into new and perhaps forbidden pleasures are also common women’s fantasies.

  The taboo or forbidden plays its part. Women fantasize about different sorts of couplings – making your husband watch you have sex with his best friend, as in Cuckold Heaven, letting your boyfriend and his best friend pleasure you, as in Jessie’s Girl, or even watching your boyfriend have sex with his best (male) friend, as in Three-Way Play. Women think about their female friends, their colleagues and bosses, and wonder: what would it be like to seduce or be seduced by them? Find out, in Thursdays at McKinney’s. Or maybe they’d take it a step further and try a threesome, as in Happy Birthday, Mr President. Some take it further still, into areas they might not explore in real life but fascinate them in fantasy, such as S&M in Puppet and fetishes in Tell-Tale Toes.

  Power play is another common theme. There’s the man who tells you what to do, in Dirty Girl: perhaps because more women are working in senior positions and supervising staff, being told what to do by a man becomes an erotic possibility instead of something to fight against. Then there’s seeing the power you can have over someone else, in At the Window as He Watches – though who’s the one who really has the power, there?

  Women fantasize about sex at work – with a colleague, a customer, a friend, the gorgeous hunk who makes your heart turn over. They think about sex at parties: strangers can turn into lovers, and maybe after a drink or two you’ll hear a friend whisper something you didn’t expect or show you a secret side you’d only ever dreamed about. They think about sex when they’re driving in a car, or riding on a bus or train: perhaps the modern equivalent of being swept away by a muscular man on horseback (and who hasn’t fantasized about the knight on the white charger, and wondered what exactly is under that armour?). They think about sex and shopping – check out Skirts and Shoes. And technology definitely isn’t a male preserve any more – Toothin’ It is as up-to-date as it gets!

  Some see their sexual fantasies in the form of a movie, as in Unicorn’s Ravine. Others are well aware that there’s a huge gap between their real lives and their imaginations, and they know exactly what flicks the erotic switch:

  When it comes to real-life sex, I’m about as straight-laced as my Minister’s untied running shoes. But when it comes to fantasy sex, I’m a girl gone wild! I see a guy or gal that turns me on, and right away he or she becomes a character in one of my wicked sexual imaginings.

  Work is Play (Karen – Albuquerque, USA)

  I’ve spoken to women throughout the UK, Europe, the USA, Canada, Australia and beyond. They gave me glimpses of their deepest fantasies – and, after a little persuasion, wrote them down for me in the form of a story. Some may surprise you, some may make you laugh – women definitely like their sex spiced with a dash of humour – and some may shock you. But within these pages you’ll find women like you and me, you’ll eavesdrop on their dreams – and maybe see some of your own reflected in their imagination.

  Sonia Florens

  Him, at My Feet

  Ann (Hartford, USA)

  When I’m online, men tell me I’m a rare gem, that there aren’t many like me. They tell me they wish their wives and girlfriends were like me. They wish they’d take the reins like I do.

  These men give me too much credit. I’m just like them, a pretender who’s only as real as they believe me to be. I might be curious and adventuresome, haughty and fierce, but I’m a pretender all the same. Oh, I want this, this desire to be on top and in charge. I want to act on these fantasies of mine, but if the online world has taught me anything, it’s that the number of submissive men waiting for someone like me in real life makes for a daunting and overwhelming prospect.

  But I do wish I had a willing man, a naked willing guy who would fall to his knees when I snap my fingers. He’d find me astonishing as I stand before him, dressed in black – sheer, dark hosiery offset by severe heels, black panties, and a waist cincher. I’d leave my breasts exposed to tantalize him with promises of either reward or punishment, either of which hinge entirely on his ability to concede to my whim.

  With his hands clasped behind his back, he’d use his teeth to pull down my panties. Oh, it wouldn’t be easy, you know. My panties aren’t just going to slide off my hips as if by magic. If anything, they’ll hug my hips and they’ll resist abdication. He’ll have to work at it, tugging at the waistband, pulling at the crotch, manoeuvring to set free that which he longs to worship.

  And once he does, once my panties are at my feet and I step from them, he’ll be there, at my feet, ready to ply his tongue to the patent leather that covers my feet. That’s where he begins his pursuit of me, at my feet, and what begins with a tentative kiss progresses to that full tongue licking that makes me hot.

  Think about it: a naked man at my feet, crouched down so tightly on all fours, he’s in like a foetal position on knees and elbows. His protruding, rounded butt entices me as he faces my feet. I can’t see the look on his face, but when he commences to shine my shoes, the little grunts and groans of abasing pleasure that rise from him tell me he’s thrilled to follow my command. The more he licks, the more he slobbers, and the wet noises that issue from him remind me of sloppy sex. I wonder if his cock drips from the lust he feels.

  I don’t have to wonder whether his cock is hard, however. I know it is. It always is when he’s at my feet. In the deepest of my fantasies, his cock’s trained to stay hard in my presence. It never loses sight of its reverence for me. But the man attached to that appendage is more human and in his desirous haste, he forgets his place easily. He starts for my ankle, kissing and caressing it with lips and tongue – without my permission to proceed. He takes a liberty I haven’t granted.

  Without hesitation, I raise my crop and lay the full brunt of his misdeed across that rounded rump of his. It’s a harsh smack and he answers it with a startled moan. His body quivers – not just his ass but his whole body, as if the impact resonates throughout him. It’s not the surprise of the crop upon his ass alone that makes him cower like a timid mouse, nor is it just the pain. It’s the knowledge that he’s done something to warrant the crop, something wrong.

  Before he can surmise his mis-step, I speak.

  “Did I give you permission to kiss my ankle, slave?”

  He shudders at the sound of my voice, at my bark. “No, ma’am.” At least he’s able to eke that admission out.

  “Then what were you doing at my ankle? Answer me!”

  “I–I – don’t know.”
>
  “Start again and don’t you dare leave the leather of my shoe until I tell you to. Understood?”

  He grunts affirmatively and, as his tongue touches my patent leather once more, I ply the stinging crop to his backside again, just for good measure.

  “Don’t try anything slight,” I tell him. “If I so much as get a hint that you’re sabotaging my intentions just to get a beating with this crop, this scene will end faster than you can say ‘I’m a worm.’ Got that?”

  His head nods as he slathers my shoes anew.

  Oh, I’ve played this scene out in my head so many times, but that’s how fantasy works, isn’t it? You get an idea and you dwell on it, each time building into it new details, new twists and turns. You yearn for its realization and your longing grows each time you visit these thoughts. Fantasy – it snowballs on itself, doesn’t it?

  At this point, I let him work on my shoes for so long that the entire matter becomes tiring for him and tiresome for me. But it’s best that way because, no matter how dull it might seem, I know he’s learned his lesson. He’s learned not to move without my explicit direction. He’s learned he’s to do things at my behest, not at the behest of his cock or his desire. He’s learned this is all about me and that he’s an afterthought. Or better yet, a tool. A tool for my pleasure.

  When I finally allow him to stop, he’s panting. I suspect his diligence has left his throat dry, but I don’t have time to show him mercy. Being nice is the last thing on my mind. Reinforcing the message is first and foremost.

  “Do you understand now that you’re not to take it upon yourself to make decisions about what your tongue should be doing?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And who should decide how you employ your tongue?”

  “You should, ma’am.”

  “Good. See to it that you remember this lesson well. Forget yourself often enough and I’ll look for another slave to serve me. That wouldn’t be hard to do, would it? After all, your type’s a dime a dozen and I bet I could even find one who wouldn’t think to forget himself.”

  He’s quivering and moaning again. Threats do that, you know, no matter how hollow they may actually be.

  I extend my left leg before him and tell him that he can kiss my ankle. I instruct him to slowly work his way up my leg.

  “But you’re to stop at the lace of my thigh-high stocking, slave. Go further without my permission and you’ll run the risk of being dismissed from my sight.”