Dreamspinners (2)

honestly, i thought i’d have Ivy ready for you. You voted, but the Muse sent me in another direction…perhaps after being with Master today (yippee!) i’ll hone Ivy into an acceptable tale….~n~

She was leaning against the wall, the sun a hot caress on her body. The bikini that barely covered her tits and pubes  clung to her. Men watched from under their hats, hoping perhaps, that every inhalation would mean the collapse of her clothing under such duress.

She smiled knowingly. She knew they were watching her. She craved that. Popping her sunglasses back on, she tossed her long, blonde mane off of her shoulders, enjoying the swaying tickle of it against the top of her rounded butt.

Her walk was slow and languid. It was hot here,  and she was horny as hell. Her pussy throbbed with need. There were so many to choose from. Tall, dark, handsome clichés,  older guys, younger guys. Short and round guys. Bald guys, bad guys, boisterous young guys.

She sighed.

Here in her dream world she still couldn’t find what she craved.

And then she saw it. A little sign at the top of the next street. It was black, with a silver whirl. Uncertain why it drew her, she nonetheless made her way towards it. Turning the corner, she saw the deep-set door. It too was painted black, with the same silver whirl on it.

She knew each dream was rife with symbolism. She wanted to wake up and explore what had already happened, and yet, nothing had. Maybe that was her inner fear speaking, wanting her to stop before she began.

She debated for a moment, the placed her hand on the knob. Before she could turn it, a hand landed on her shoulder, with the feeling of a giant presence pressing against her.

“Are you certain?” The voice asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. The presence disappeared.

***   ***   ***

“I wouldn’t worry, she’s still well within acceptable limits,” said the Operations Supervisor.  Ester looked unconvinced.

“Her pussy is trembling but she hasn’t yet had her first orgasm. Her nipples are hard, but not in sync with her brainwaves. “

“Did you follow protocol and ask her if she was certain?” At Esters nod, the ‘Bot continued. “And did she respond to you?” Ester nodded again.

“Do not worry then. She has responded in normal time. Her heart and brainwave patterns have returned to normal. Buzz for me if her heartrate jumps over 87, or her brainwaves fall into suprahertz patterns.” With that the ‘Bot rolled off.

“Fucking mechanical devices,” Ester muttered under her breath.

“Smartass comment duly noted.” chimed the Op-Super as it rolled back to its berth.

Great. Something else to go on her record.

***   ***   ***

Despite the temporary panic attack, she moved on. She’d wanted to do this for so long. She wasn’t going to quit when her nerves danced a bit. She flicked her wrist, releasing the door, and stepped inside.

It was dark, and the air was heavy and thick.


She wasn’t sure if the voice wanted her to have an orgasm or move forward. She took a step. And another. It got darker still. She put her hands in front of her, trying to not walk into anything. The floor texture changed under her feet.  Grooves appeared, like wagon tracks on a dirt road, separating her feet. She felt the floor rising up between her legs, yet was spurred forward by the sonorous tones uttering that one word…’come’…

She felt the touch of something against her left wrist.


Ester rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet. Firsties were always so fucking nerve-wracking. She didn’t know Clara’s body rhythms yet, could only work with the “acceptable parameters” model.

Yet when Clara jolted on the table, she jumped as well. Such things were within ‘normal’ but ever since the  Jon Everstone matter, she worried.


It was cold metal, so out-of-place in the humid atmosphere that made her jump. Goosebumps appeared up her arm, her right nipple growing hard and poking against the fabric of her …wait. Her swimsuit was gone. 

When had that happened?

The cuff fastened around her wrist, too tight to pull it off, yet not painfully tight. Her arm was lifted up, and she heard the ratchet engage as the other end was fastened to a pole over her head.  She could move forward, but not back. Her legs were knee-deep in the grooved floor, and approximately two feet apart. She felt like she was waddling like a duck.

Another cuff slid around her other wrist and that hand was secured up as well. Her hands grasped the short length of chain as she walked forward, the sound of the cuffs rasping in the silent darkness.

There was a sound of harsh breathing. She stopped moving.

It was not her breathing. It almost sounded like someone was …fucking.


There was no response. Cuffs wrapped around her legs just above her knees, fastened to a bar as wide as the floor groove would allow.

Now she felt herself pulled forward, one small, waddling step at a time.


…and suddenly she was lowered. She felt something hot and warm under her, and something warm and hard between her thighs.

A cock.

She felt it pressing against her pussy lips as she was lowered to sit on the thick, hard, shaft. It felt so fucking good.

“Fuck it.”


Her arms were pulled upwards, raising her body. She felt the give in the tension, as if giant rubber bands held her.  Hands grabbed her hips, pulling her down.

Another dreamer?

Or a figment of her own dream?