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Fantasy Victim

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Fantasy Victim - Latex Fashion Model Susan Wayland

Fantasy
VictimI don’t know about you, but I have a vivid imagination. This translates very often into my dreams, where I do get inspirations from time to time. Particularly dreams where you know you went through an ordeal, were moved and upset, somehow incredibly enthralled and shaken by it, yet when you wake up, you just can remember only parts of it. These dreams sometimes make you wish they were reality, do they not? While you are still dreaming, knowing it, you do not want to wake up and have your fears confirmed that it is only a dream after all. So you keep yourself within it by force, trying to bring over the fantasy to the real world, fighting against odds and losing to the simple nature of humanity. So you do try to remember every bit of the dream, grasping towards every glimpse you can remember, in the vain hope you will one day go back there and continue where you left off, because you never felt that alive, that intense. This is the point where I would like to return to that almost forgotten fantasy, covered by the veil of imagination and wonders I perceive to be my dream world, my ultimate goal to relieve and continue exploring the home of the unconscious bliss or dread, returning where I belong, at last remembering:

Fantasy
VictimI found myself on a plate, apparently bound with something, hearing dampened steps moving away somewhere outside the room that held me captive. I was on my back and was blinded by some overhead light, which looked like something you would find in an operating room. Come to think of it, the whole room had that medical stench, felt sterile, but it did not seem like a regular room you would find in a hospital. Alarmed, I struggled against the harnesses to see what contraption was holding me tied down. It was some leather bands, similar to belts but obviously designed for the purpose of tying people down. I also realized that I was clad in some grayish top, which upon closer inspection turned out to be transparent. I shivered, not so much because of the cold, but rather because I felt stripped bare, naked, violated, nude, exposed. Embarrassed and angry at the same time, I tried to pry myself loose from the restraints, a futile attempt that just frustrated me more. I felt vulnerable, first signs of panic creeping up on me. The plate I was tied to - or was it an operating table, I did not know - felt cold against my skin, but was slippery as if lubricated, additionally limiting my ability to freely move about.

Fantasy
VictimI yelled for help. Strike that, I shrieked full of panic, begging someone, anyone to help me. Tears ran down my cheeks, my lower lip trembled and unbearable thoughts raced through my mind. I was convinced that someone was watching me and I tried to reason with my tormentor, my captor, promising everything, if only he or she would release me, set me free. I was very much aware of my nudity, my intimate parts showing openly, while I weakened with every move I made. There was someone watching me and I felt instantly disgusted with myself, because in some perverted way it made me become a bit aroused. Guttural noises escaped my mouth, while with renewed strength I trashed around, as I felt first droplets touch my skin. With bulging eyes I hysterically sought out the source of the liquid, recognizing the showerhead affixed above me the second water started pouring out of there with force. The water was cold like the death itself, freezing me to the bone, suffocating my struggle against the harnesses, transforming my screams into moans, just barely audible. Why is this happening to me? Oh, my God, please, why?

Fantasy
VictimI hear steps again, approaching and filling me with dread and some sick trace of hope that I may be released, after all. My heart skipped a beat when a billiard ball, attached to some stripe or band, came into my view. It just hung there, held by someone in the dark and looked like the device they use in Track and Field for the hammer throw discipline. The unexpected view of such a contraption flustered me for a second, but then I realized what the device was meant for and my mind short-circuited completely. I buckled as if hit by an electroshock, an ear-piercing scream not managing to escape my throat, because sheer, cold, deathly horror choked me, suffocated me, engulfing every single instance of my being.

Susan Wayland

Latex pictures of Fantasy Victim

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