Original article =
by Jim Stewart

Hollywood, the dream factory, has been feeding our sexual fantasies for generations. From Clara Bow, via Marilyn Monroe to Sharon Stone (or whoever); from the young Brando, James Dean and thousands of studs since, men and women have creamed their jeans or wet their knickers over images fed into their minds.

The process of constructing an erotic fantasy is something a lot of us do naturally and regularly. We build our personal turn-on situations out of whatever images/activities appeal to us, drawing on a variety of sources. This erotic scenario building is like being the writer and director of our own personal movie. The process has been called 'The Theatre of the Mind's Eye'. If we choose we can also play a leading role or just sit back and be the audience. Who hasn't superimposed faces from the movies or TV onto their everyday sexual imaginings?

HAMISH MACBETH, the self-sufficient, introspective, pot smoking policeman in a small West Highlands village is already fantasy fodder for a lot of nice respectable TV viewers. A lean and physically fit thirty-something with a tough streetwise Glasgow background, he has settled for a quieter outdoor life as a country copper. I fancied seeing Hamish Macbeth being sexually challenged and jumped through a few unexpected hoops.
(In this spin on the story the challenge comes from a female - but, like so many stories on this site, it's very easy to modify the tale to suit your personal preferences.)


The casting couch is now in our living rooms. With TV and video recorder we can pump up a face, figure or dramatic character and mentally involve them in a scenario of our own choosing, commanding whoever we select to take part in our wildest fantasies.

Quite often, a situation we've seen in a movie or read in a book is the starting point for our fantasy: But we then develop the action according to our personal taste. As an example of the way we feed our lustful imaginings; last week I found myself mentally hijacking two leading actors from a popular TV series, and forcing them to re-route the plot into a lurid sexual situation which involved all my favourite turn-ons.


A fantasy















A plot development by Jim Stewart

The story so far:
Currently Police Constable Hamish's sex life is nonexistent because previous girlfriend Isobel is working permanently in Glasgow, and the local girl who was his true love died during the previous series.

The situation that sparked my imagination:
Suddenly, Hamish's easy-going, resolutely solitary existence in his untidy bachelor home which is also the village 'nick', is thrown into chaos. An inexperienced police woman from Glasgow has been assigned to join him for a week to study small community policing

When the eager to learn young probationer, Ann Ellis, arrives she is not only very attractive but has the hots for sexually frustrated Hamish as soon as she sees him. Because the Station House has only one bedroom, Hamish has planned to bed down for the week in the seldom used holding cell on the premises. She moves into his bedroom and things soon get very tense around the house. A couple of semi-undressed close encounters contrived by eager-to-please PC Ellis threaten to seriously complicate Hamish's life.

Each evening he determinedly stays out late on invented "personal business" so's not to lead either of them into temptation ... because her daddy just happens to be Police Commissioner Ellis. Any sexual dalliance could lead to either career problems or promotion ... and Hamish wants neither.



According to my fantasy ... the story continues ...#cuffing


After a restless night on his jail cell bunk, plagued with erotic dreams of black stockinged, tightly uniformed police nymphets, Hamish decides that a five mile run and dip in the loch in the cold dawn light might cool him down. He dresses in sweats and trainers and sneaks from his cell, but at the door is confronted by daddy's girl eager to flex a few muscles. Dressed in loose fitting sweats with nothing underneath she is hot to trot.

During the first mile as she outlines her determination to succeed in the force, Hamish is aware of the outline of her breasts bouncing unharnessed under their soft covering. He hots up the pace and she relishes the challenge, glowing with pride as she chats about her enjoyment of the rigours of training college. She asks if he takes a morning swim and is game for a plunge. He insists that the water is too deep. With sweat making both their tracksuits cling, she paces Hamish up hill and down dale as they head for home. She says she wants him to respect her as a policewoman and is determined to prove that women can be as efficient as men in the force.

Back at the modest cottage-come-police-station, as they mop off, she continues to insist on the necessity for women being able to handle themselves in physically violent situations. She complains that in unarmed combat training the men didn't give women opportunity to prove themselves. She tells Hamish how unfair the men were, for example, with handcuff training. Her cuffs are there, she asks Hamish if he thinks she could cuff him even if he seriously tried to resist.

Exhausted from his run and distracted by her physical presence he is noncommittal but she is hyped and insists she could cuff him against his will. Before he can tactfully avert the situation she has grabbed him by the sweats, turned him round and slammed him against the wall. On a roll, she is kicking his feet apart and shouting that he should put his hands up the wall. When he hesitates she pulls him back and slams him against the wall more painfully. As he tries to reason with her he does as she repeatedly orders. The Speedcuffs click around one wrist and it is twisted painfully down and round into the middle of his back. In spite of his protests she drags the other arm down and connects with the cuff. As the procedure ends she is elated and steps back.

Hamish painfully moves his feet together before turning round to face her. He is glowering with rage but when they both realise that his prick is rigid as a tent-pole he is reduced to silent embarrassment. She laughs breathlessly. "You see! I know how to get my own way. I knew I could do that - and I could get you to the cell, even if you resisted. Do you think I could, Hamish?"

He shakes his head and is about to object when she yells "Damn you, Hamish Macbeth!! All I want is for you to see that I am good at my job. I can handle myself. I need a chance to prove myself. I'm not just here because of who my father is. So - you are going to the cell, like it or not". Hamish's refusal dies on his lips as she arm-locks, bends him over and frogmarches him along the corridor despite his protests.

At the open cell door she pushes him inside and stays outside, but does not close the door. "I want you to respect me, Hamish."
He remains with his back to her, his sweats clinging to his damp body.
"Do you respect me, Hamish?" adding sharply, "Turn round and look at me, damn it".
He turns round and his knob still sticks out against his damp track suit.
"Is that a sign of respect, Hamish?"
He does not answer and she moves towards him. "Is it?!"
He refuses to speak and she grabs his nob with a firm grip, lifting and twisting it slightly. "Is it a sign of respect, constable Macbeth?"
Eventually he answers "Yes!"
Still holding tight she demands,"Yes what, constable Macbeth"?
He is uncomfortable rather than in pain, "Yes what?" he asks.
"Yes, constable Ellis. I am your colleague - and would like to be your equal. Indulge me, constable Macbeth? Give me opportunity to prove that I could be your equal? An equal match for you?"
He remains silent, so her grip turns into a stroke of his penis. He squirms.
"I think I could make you say and do a lot of things, constable Macbeth?"
He doesn't reply and with a sudden ruthless grab and hold, she again lifts.
"Couldn't I, constable Macbeth?!"
She lifts higher "Yes, what!?"
"Yes, policewoman Ellis"
She corrects him, "Police constable Ellis!"

Stepping back through the cell entrance she closes the barred door.
"Humour me, Hamish. I'm used to getting my own way - but I need to know I can get it even against strong resistance. So you will be doing me a favour if you put up a good fight."
She turns the key and takes it from the lock "Don't go away".
Hamish is left to sweat. It drips from his nose but with hands cuffed behind his back, he can only blow it off.

A printer-friendly version of the complete text is at HAMISH MACBETH



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