He was quite simply the picture of a confident, charming, successful, handsome man. Perfectly groomed, his nails cut and filed, every hair in place, his teeth straight and white and his eyes, beautifully deep pools of blue. He was sat opposite me, his suit crisp, his demeanour commanding.

Her eyes were the only way she had left to worship me, but I had to blindfold her. She was tied to the bed; only silk and ribbons (too sweet for chains or rope, this one)- she wouldn’t struggle enough to loosen them. All done, I sat for a moment to admire my work, adore her; she couldn’t see my admiration, in any case she was lost in a sensory deprived world.

Please note: this powerful fantasy describes scenes that some readers may find upsetting or triggering.

Am I too heavy for you? You smile. Your arm, like a big kitchen spoon is spooning by breast. You are here and serious, I know, and my nipples somehow still here hope that you will stay. You will stay until I fit in your shoes, until they are the right size.

I enjoy touching myself. I touch myself. I touch myself once, twice, three times a day. I mostly like touching myself in the winter, when everything is frozen and my vagina so warm. I prefer touching myself with gloves on, so that it feels like it is someone else touching myself. Sometimes I caress myself first, to calm me down,

It is at this time that I like it more. When I am lying in bed at 6 o' clock and I pretend I am ill with fever and sweat. I am so sweaty that it is like I am throwing up or I have my period. I hate that I like these things, but I like them.

This room is anonymous and unremarkable. It’s like any other. But a description of the room doesn’t matter. What matters is you and I are in this room. And what is about to take place. I blindfolded you until we got here, a surprise I said. Now I’ve taken the covering off, you are blinking and unsure. I like this, I don’t want you secure, you should be slightly worried. Your unease makes you more compliant, we all like rules, boundaries and routines.

This is it. This is it. This is the ultimate lonely fucking, individual doing, sad caressing, wonderful touching, sexual doing it alone, fucking mother fucking masturbation fantasy, which once and for all has come true.

I open my eyes and I see you and the dark. I want to do two things. Keep the dark as it is and hold you tight. Hold your tiny tiny nipple breast underneath your shirt. I need to do that from time to time; it reminds me of who I am, what my name is, what my favourite dish is, where I come from.

It's like somebody put nails down beneath me - I want to jump away and leave, get the hell out of here. This is where people die. This is where they walk past the red lights and die, shattered and bleeding. So let's get our fucking clothes off and let's do this.