Wish List

by Mike McGifford

Copyright© 2018 by Mike McGifford

BDSM Story: This fantasy was inspired by being introduced (not directly of course) to a slave going by the name, 'Greyhound', from a bondage site. There has never been any personal interaction between them and me and they are not aware of any inspiration they may have created. I just like to give props where possible. It's a story about the owner and the owned and how such a divine meeting could really happen in today's world.

Tags: Fiction   DomSub   MaleDom  


It started out as a list of things I was interested in. Most guys topped their list with the word SPORTS and then added under that the types of sports in order of preference. Well I’m not at all a sports fan. I like to know who won the Super Bowl in case it comes up in conversation but that’s about it.

My list started with sex. Under that, I began to list the types of sex I liked in order of preference. You should try it sometime. It’s way more difficult than it sounds! After an aborted attempt, I deleted everything I’d written and began again, this time referencing a few websites that claimed to be able to list all the sex acts out there. I never even got to the other pastimes that interested me.

Once I was done with the types of sex acts I like and the fetishes I was drawn to, it still looked incomplete to me. I already had everything from anal to zoophilia, yet I knew I was missing something. I put my list aside planning to come back to it the next day. Well as usual, the next day never came. Well it did, but it didn’t follow the day I’d written my initial list. It came nearly two years later when I was deleting files to make space and speed my machine up.

I read the list and laughed. It was obvious now what was wrong with it. There was stuff on there that needed to be more properly cataloged. For example, I had absolutely zero interest in sucking horse cock yet I’d put zoophilia. I’d just like to see a hot naked chick doing it, maybe just so I could say I’d seen it and it did nothing for me. You know, like a bucket list thing.

So sue me. I got sidetracked from cleaning up my computer. I justified changing tasks by rationalizing that my list had been made to wait so long already. It needed a few minutes of my time. Well, five hours is more than a few minutes but that’s what it took. I now had three columns, the first being the, ‘Like To See’ column. Things like the horse cock sucking, lesbians making out and having sex, monster cock double penetrations, mom and son incest, all neatly ordered into my viewing preference. Yeah I know, I’m a deviant. This shit’s all in my head though. I have ZERO interest in screwing my own mom! Damn, now I don’t feel like admitting what was on my, ‘Want To Do’ list. Well fuck you.

I made a third column and I called it, ‘Want To Have Done’, where I listed all the things I’d like, or think I’d like to try, having someone do to me. That list got pretty out of control pretty quickly. Sure, I like a hand job. In fact getting jerked off was at the top of my list, followed by getting oral sex. The only reason oral sex wasn’t first is because it’s easier to convince a girl to wank your crank than to suck you, right?

Anyway, as I said, that list got out of hand pretty damn quickly. The third thing was ‘have a cute girl beg to be ass-fucked’. It’s my list, so that’s what was third. The only thing is, I then had to go back to the ‘Want To Do’ list and add anal sex to it too. That’s just one example from near the top of the list. Every time I added something to my, ‘Want To Have Done’ column, I had to go back and add a variation to my, ‘Want To Do’ column. Sometimes I had to add a different variation to my, ‘Like To See’ column too. It got pretty time consuming.

Near the bottom of my third list I was writing, ‘Be bathed and dressed by a naked model’, only to have to go back to my second column and add, ‘Bathe and dress a model’ and then my first column to add, ‘Watch a model get bathed and dressed – with sub categories for HOW they’d be dressed, to include beach wear, sleep wear, sexy, demure, outrageous, slutty ... you get the idea. Anyway, the thought occurred to me that in my, ‘Want To Have Done’ column I could just have easily put, ‘Have a hot girl who’ll do anything I want’. I could have saved myself carpal tunnel.

I saved and closed the file at that point. I had a lot to think about, following that exercise in futility. I realized, and I’m about to use big words, because what I had was an epiphany. I’m a narcissist and that’s not the full word meaning narc either. If you don’t know what it means you shouldn’t have been reading what I’d written so far either.

Nowhere in my lists had I written anything about falling head over heels in love with a woman. Everything I wrote to do with the interaction between me and a woman revolved around me. Sure, it’s my list, but in my head, I’d love to fall head over heels for a beautiful woman – as long as she either unconditionally bows to my every whim, or focuses a hundred percent of her energy into making me want to lick dirt off her shoe.

FYI, my list was a COMPLETE list of everything I would do or want to have done for me or want to see. There could possibly exist a woman out there who could make me WANT to lick dirt off her shoe, so I put it on my list. A header with a bunch of other outlandish things like wear a cock cage – stuff only one woman in existence could make me choose to do. And that shit was right at the bottom, of course, with the stuff I was interested in, but hardly. Yet it was there nonetheless. I admit it. I’m not justifying myself, but being honest. It’s an example of things I could conceive of doing but I’d be the one that, for the reason I just gave, who wanted it – which is how I realized I’m a narcissist in the first place.

Damn. No one likes a narcissist. I’d listened to radio shows, watched videos, read blogs about all that stuff so I knew. No wonder I’m single. Fuck. Well hell. Maybe I’ll take responsibility for myself and actually advertise myself as a narcissist on those dating websites that seem to be everywhere these days. See what happens if I warn girls that I have high standards even though really I’m nothing special myself (there’d be no reason to tell women that!) and that I’ll start out treating them like a princess and before they know it, they’ll be acting like my personal sex slave. How’s that for embracing my narcissism?

I put my list away again but this time, I came back to it the very next day and I used it while crafting what I thought of as a ‘joke’ advertisement. Thinking about what I was writing made me horny and the nastier it got, the more I wanted to jerk off. My only limitation was what I believed I could get away with and still have my advertisement published. This is what I wrote:

Daddy is looking for his princess. Only apply if you are submissive, masochistic and eager to please. You will learn how to serve my every whim and you will be caged or restrained and ignored when I am bored with you. Your only job is to be pretty and accept whatever I deign to bestow upon you, whether it be jewelry or the beautiful artwork created with the cane. I decide if you’re pretty, not you, and I will decide what makes you prettier, not you. My princess will be arm candy when I desire and debased at any other time. I promise only to maintain your basic health and in return you will attend my needs 24/7. Apply if your only limit is the value you place on your life. I am a sexist, sadistic bastard and proudly look for the one who abhors feminism, romance and a lovey-dovey man. My love is gained by enthusiastic acceptance of my desires and expressed with degradation and pain. The more I love my princess, the less of a person she’ll become. You will repent for your sins and I will teach you to behave.

I posted my ad on two websites and had it rejected by a dozen others who were probably scared of reprisals. I then went about my business, although I did check every ten minutes for a response that first day and hourly on the second. By the third I was certain my ad had been dismissed. On the forth day I received a response. An irate woman, demanding that I remove the vile filth I’d posted. Like that was going to happen! It did however make me wonder and briefly fantasize about the woman who took the time to read it. I replied to her that I wanted a woman who accepted me for me, not one who challenged me to correct her and she’d failed the first test. I never heard back from her.

By the end of the first week I laughed to myself and forgot about the ad. A month later, a friend showed me a post on Facebook that had gone viral. It was my ad! Of course there was no way to see it was mine ... just the text, with a few modifications, had been posted. That was pretty darned funny though. I felt really proud.


I couldn’t believe my mom – she posts some of the most outrageous stuff on Facebook sometimes! This was her all time high, or low, depending on your point of view. It wasn’t even a forwarded thing. She’d screen-shotted, if that’s a word, something that she then uploaded, just so she could attack it as if she were replying to the author. I thought my mom was really funny with what she wrote but If the author had read what she wrote on Facebook, he would have crawled into a hole and shat himself.

The thing was, it was like a personal ad looking for the perfect match and I felt like that perfect match could be me! I didn’t know anything about the originator though. He could be a teen or a retired couch potato, not that it matters. He could have been a model or an ugly slob, which really didn’t matter either. What mattered was what he wrote.

I’m not a nice person and it’s begun to bother me. Depress me sometimes even. I’ve tried to be nice, I really have. It’s just not me. I’m scornful and judgmental, I make fun of people for giggles and I use people all the time. On the other hand, I masturbate to fantasies of being property and that’s what mom’s Facebook post talked about. It was SO fucking hot. Just how does a girl ask her mom where she found that fucking thing in the first place though?

In my mind, it never occurred to me that the post could be make-believe. I SO wanted it to be real that I decided I owed it to myself to find out for sure. So you hacked my mom’s laptop after school while she was at work. She’s smart, but not computer savvy. Her password was my name. Duh!

What I found on there though! Damn, my mom’s a fucking deviant! I never ever ever EVER would have guessed by the way she acted around me. She had porn coming out her laptop’s ass, along with pictures of other things coming out her own ass too. I know it was her as a younger woman as I studied one of her pictures even though I couldn’t see her face. She had a fucking beer bottle sticking out of her ass and a dog collar thingy around her neck. Another one showed where she’d been whipped or spanked or something. Red lines and bruising on her ass and thighs. I couldn’t help it. I rubbed one out to pictures of my own mom before I started to investigate the origin of her post.

Mom had downloaded the original ad herself! The original was different though. I think mommy dearest added and subtracted stuff to suit her own fantasies. The original never talked about analingus and it said the guy wanted arm candy. Mom pretends but deep down I know she’s insecure about her looks. Seeing that probably put her off so she cut it out. I just wished the ad wasn’t so old. He probably had so many replies that by now he’s probably gone through 50 princesses to find his one-and-only. God I wished I could have met him but I’m only 17 and he’d think I’m just a silly little girl going through a phase. That and I have no tits for him to play with. Mom’s porn has all sorts of big boobies on display. Guys ALL want big boobs too, not my little ‘A’ cups.

Finding mom’s copy of the ad was a little depressing really. I mean I wrote the web address down before I carefully returned the laptop to the same state as I’d found it, but I don’t know why I bothered. Using my phone, I went to the website. There’d been a gazillion personals posted since then and after 10 pages of searching, I’d only gone back a week. It was a little heartening to think that maybe all the replies I’d imagined were in reality less since there were so many after his that his got well and truly buried. He hadn’t even reposted from the look of things.

I was getting frustrated and angry by the time I’d gone back a month. Imagine tapping the ‘next’ button a billion times and seeing mostly reposts of the same soppy crap guys spew out all the time. Looking for my true love. Looking for my one and only. How about looking for a bitch who’ll happily jam her tongue as deep in my ass as she can get? No. None of those in the whole hundred and ninety three pages I’d clicked through. Can you imagine how pissed off I was when I THEN discovered the search bar? A phone’s screen is too fucking tiny for this shit!

I typed in ‘princess’. It was really all I had to go on I figured. Yay, that reduced the results to a fucking thousand and eight. Just for giggles I added ‘degradation’ which mom’s version used 3 times. I’d gotten that hint. Mommy likes the idea of being degraded too. You know how many ads used that combination of words? One. ONE! Mom was due home any minute and I’d wasted like over an hour looking page by page for something I could have found in seconds! I threw my phone at the couch in disgust. It bounced and clattered to the floor, the battery falling out. Again.

Finding the ad was easy. Now that I’d found it, and I mean the REAL one, I was almost too scared to open it. My phone sat broken on the floor and I was tempted to stomp it for good measure. Then I thought about the author. Would that guy want a scaredy cat? Was I a scaredy cat myself? HELL NO! I’ve taken on football players with just a glare and they backed off. I’m not afraid of nothing! With thoughts like that in mind, I picked up the parts of my phone. Surprisingly, there was no additional damage. I popped the battery in, clipped the back on and hit the power button. Nothing happened for like ever before the startup icon showed.

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