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A Dream, Or...
By Jude Mason
It happened again last night. That dream. It terrified me, but at the same time, it got me so wet I thought I'd have to change the sheets. Jack, my husband, thought I was insane. But, what does he know? I couldn't even tell him the entire thing, not about…well, the painful part. He'd never understand that.
It began when I heard someone at my window. When I opened my eyes and sat up, the room was gone. You'd think I should be afraid then, but for some reason I'm not. Nothing in the dream scared me, surprisingly. Jane, my best girlfriend, was on the bed beside me and that felt right too.
Back to the noise at the window. No one else in the room heard it and that surprised me because it seemed so loud. A tapping noise, like someone was throwing rocks at the glass. I climbed out of bed and I had on the most sensual, sheer gown you could imagine. It felt like cobwebs brushing my nipples and thighs. By the time I got to the window, I shivered, not from cold, but from the feel of the gown caressing me.
I opened the window and it was him.
I can't fully describe the feelings that gripped me then. I was suddenly trembling with excitement and weak in the knees. My heart felt as if it was trying to hammer its way out of my chest. I opened my mouth to say something, but it was so dry not a peep came out. I stood there, enthralled, trembling beside the window and him on the ledge in his dark mask, just his eyes gleaming at me, the rest of him covered in that dark outfit.
"Strip." His voice was deep and commanding, and barely loud enough for me to hear. I obeyed instantly. I'd never obeyed a man before, but it felt so natural, so right. His voice gave me no choice and I doubt I'd have done anything else even if I'd been able to. I shrugged my shoulders and the gossamer gown slipped off and down my arms. Another shiver and then goose bumps crept across my chest. My nipples erected. The folds of my sex swelled and I knew I was suddenly, indescribably, wet.
"To your bed, girl," he whispered, but it wasn't as if he was trying to be quiet. He was speaking to me, and only used enough voice for me to hear.
I remember how flushed and embarrassed I felt. What if someone saw me? What if one of my sisters in the room woke and found me naked and running to obey some darkly robed man? But, it didn't stop me from scurrying to my bed, to stand at the foot of it with my hands tightly clasped in front of my sex, and wait expectantly for his next command.
He'd followed me, silently. He was like a wraith, and seemed more shadow than flesh, until he laid a hand on my shoulder. Warm and strong, electricity shot from his fingers to my pussy. My knees trembled and I thought I was going to fall.
"Kneel on your bed; face the pillow and your friend."
I turned and faced my bed. There lay Jane still sound asleep, oblivious to what was happening to me. I carefully climbed onto the bed and knelt there on my hands and knees, glad that I was no longer facing him, but shocked at how readily I had taken up such a posture. Some sane part of my mind kept saying, 'What are you doing? You can't just obey this…this man.'
But, I did and I relished the doing.
All was silent for the longest time and I began to wonder if he'd vanished. Then, at the head of the bed, I heard Jane, "What…what's happening?"
My heart leapt into my throat. I'm not sure what I expected, or if I expected anything at all. It wasn't that Jane would look at me with those big doe eyes of hers and smile, as if she knew what it was all about, as if she'd had the same dream. But, that's exactly what happened.
From behind me, his voice spoke, just loud enough, "Jane, come and join Mary."
Just as softly, she replied, "Yes, my Lord." As swiftly as I, Jane slipped out of bed and let her gown fall around her ankles.
I had never seen Jane naked before. She was lovely, not as young as I, but
"What lovely round bottoms you both have," he said and as soft as his voice was, I heard his pleasure as well.
I squirmed at his words. No one had ever looked at me in such a position or said such things about any part of me. I wanted to die, or run, or come—I wasn't sure which, but I pressed more firmly against Jane and preyed she'd know what was right. I felt her press back, and for some strange reason, her flesh against mine felt perfectly right. She was soft, and warm, and I wanted suddenly to take her in my arms and comfort her.
"Both of you have been chosen to give me pleasure." His words seemed very loud that time and I was sure the rest of the woman would wake and see what was taking place. No one did though, for which I breathed a sigh of relief.
But, what was he talking about? And, why would he choose me?
I felt my pussy lips swell, and the wetness seeping, trickling towards my clit.
"You will remain as I have told you," he said, and then there was the touch of bristles, or something like them, against my lower back. "Of course, you may beg, either for more or for me to stop."
A sudden flash of pain across my bottom followed. I yelped, but bit back the retort that came to the tip of my tongue, knowing it wasn't appropriate, or desired by either of us. My pussy clenched. I glanced behind me, and saw the bundled twigs in his hand.
"I would prefer it if you didn't cry out, at least not too loudly." He brushed the twigs across my behind, as if indicating that he meant his words for me alone. "Do you understand?"
Beside me Jane whispered, "Yes, I understand, my Lord."
She nudged me with her shoulder and I echoed her response. "Yes, I understand…my Lord."
He chuckled, ever so softly. "You hesitated. We'll see how long that lasts."
The wait that followed had me holding my breath. Anticipation, fear, excitement, all of the above? Would he really do it? I turned my head towards Jane and watched her face. She too seemed to be holding her breath, but she had such a look of lust on her face, it shook me.
That's when the first real stroke wrapped me in pain. A fiery splash of agony warmed my bottom, and made my pussy tighten. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, but whether the cry would have been of hurt or pleasure, I really didn't know.
The next stroke wasn't mine, but Jane's. Jane, who merely closed her eyes and groaned; whose face flushed, and who gasped and clenched her fingers, but showed no other sign that she'd been struck. A tiny smile curled the corners of her mouth.
I blinked. How could she smile? The tight bundle of branches struck again, tearing my thoughts from wondering at anything but the sensation. I opened my mouth to cry out, but he'd timed it. I had no air to push the scream out, so all I managed was an undignified grunt. But, again my inner muscles clamped down and my clitoris throbbed.
Dragging in a great breath of air, I prepared myself for the next swat. My bottom felt warm. A prickling sensation crept across where the branches had made contact. I ached to reach back and touch myself, but I dared not move.
I eased my knees apart—just a little—hoping he wouldn't see, wouldn't notice. Whether he did or not became superfluous when I heard the thwack of the branches on Jane's behind. She sighed. I couldn't believe how serene she was, how much pleasure she seemed to get from the whipping.
I didn't have time to consider it for long. The next stroke caught me across the fullness of my bottom. I'd just begun to inhale, so the gasp that followed was next to silent. The pain was nowhere near as surprising as the rush of pleasure that made me shudder. My pussy swelled and I smelled my own musk, and prayed that he wouldn't. My bottom felt so warm, as if fire had raced across my flesh and scorched me. Embarrassed, I also felt the warmth spread. Down my thighs and even to my breasts that dangled beneath me.
The thrashing continued, first he'd swat Jane, and then me. Each time I felt the strange, wonderful excitement building. Once he stopped and leaned over Jane to whisper to us both. "Such pretty round bums, such lovely flushed skin."
I felt my own flush deepen. Sweat trickled from under my arms. Nectar trickled down my thighs. How I ached to rub myself.
He interrupted my thoughts. "Mary, are you ready to call me your Lord?"
I wanted to scream, yes, to beg him to continue. I craved this touch, yet I couldn't bring myself to say it. Not yet.
He seemed to know and understand I needed more persuading, and was content to do just that.
Jane smiled at me as the branches struck again. She too seemed satisfied and eagerly pushed her bottom out just a little, as if encouraging his blow. It came soon enough and her sigh was louder than before. Her face had a deep flush and her breath came in sharp ragged gulps.
He swung the twigs with a mastery that I'd never imagined. Flailing from Jane to my bottom, punishing us equally, exciting us with the sweet pain of his thrashing, it wasn't long before I too was thrusting my bottom out, silently begging for his stroke. He played us as he would an instrument, touching us in just the right way, caressed the heat of us when it suited him, and we gazed into each other's eyes while gasping for more.
An hour, a night, I still have no idea how long it lasted. But, when he stopped again and leaned over Jane's back, I knew I could not refuse. In his deep voiced whisper, he asked, "Mary, are you ready to call me your Lord?"
I sobbed. I tried biting my lip to keep from crying out the words he seemed so in need of hearing. Finally, I moaned and cried, "Yes, you are my Lord."
"Yes, my lovely woman, I am." He ran his hand over my lower back, moving it towards my bottom. His touch made my flesh feel even warmer. He didn't use the bundled branches again, at least not to cause pain. Instead, with a gentleness that surprised me, he placed his hand on my lower back and ran the twigs up and down the back of my thighs.
My trembling increased immediately. I squirmed uncontrollably as he used the branches to excite me. He brushed them gently over my pussy and back. He tickled my cleft and grazed them all around my heated backside. A trail of fire, of pleasure and pain, of need and want blossomed inside me.
Jane lay beside me, watching my expression change, as she smiled and sent kisses my way. She knew—she'd been exactly where I was at that moment—I knew that and treasured the sharing.
When suddenly I heard the branches skitter across the floor I wondered, what could he do to me next? I held my breath, anticipating. My heart was ready to burst, threatened it, drumming in my chest.
His touch, when it came, soft and caressing on my inner thigh, set me free to experience the pleasure of his painful gift. His slid his palm from the inside of my knee upward. Warm, so warm it was molten, neared my sex. His hand met my wetness, but didn't falter. He chuckled. I moaned.
Beside me, Jane's eyes blinked wide. She gasped and then groaned.
He, my Lord, was behind us both. His hands were obviously on us both. I watched as she climbed towards orgasm, my own pleasure building at the same pace. Her moans echoed mine and mine hers. As her mouth fell open, so did mine. When she could no longer keep her eyes open, mine drifted shut as well. And when her cries of pleasure came in shuddering gasps of desperation, mine followed moments later. Our sobs and guttural groans of mindless bliss, her flesh rubbing against mine as we convulsed, mounted until the room echoed with our release.
He played us well, that evening, in my dream and I soared and pummeled as he guided me. Jane never knew the pleasure I got from seeing and hearing her climb towards orgasm. Nor did she know how our hands had finally clasped each others, as our bodies convulsed, side by side, at our Lords pleasure.
I remember nothing after that. Sleep, then awakened by the alarm, no memory of crawling into bed, or of where Jane had gone, or him. It was a dream—a dream of my Lord and how I wanted, something.
But, when I turned onto my back, my bottom burned.
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round and soft, and as womanly a shape as any man would desire. It seemed she was less concerned about being naked than I was as she joined me. Unafraid, uninhibited, she crawled onto the bed beside me and presented her bottom to the man of shadows. Her Lord, she'd called him, and the title fit.
