It 's the break we have been waiting for ... one that does not involve us taking any off solar day at work.

You get done with your shopping tripper and breakfast duties with your folks and finally have some you time. And of course, you have month end work to appear into.

I wait, impatiently maybe ... but I know you would be able to spare some time and that 's what matters.

wellspring, since I do not have anything else to do, I am complimentary to sleep and possibly pipe dream of you. I snuggle up in my fluffy blanket ... just the mantle and nothing else.

I wake up on something flaccid ... sand ... subdued, pristine moxie filters through my finger. It is weirdly dark, with stop of light peeking through. I realise that I have a stubble hat covering my brass. I take the hat off and sit up ... the evening sun is softly glowing above the horizon ( or is it fall into place ? ). I remember sleeping naked, but I am now wearing a summer wearing apparel ... navy ... flowy, sexily silky to the touch. A beach. I am on a beach. Does n't seem like State of Kuwait ... the sand 's too clean, like bubbly coloured sugar.

I stand up and sprinkle myself ... A cool walkover blows, being naughty with the hem of my clothes. I look around, it is dusk after all.. the sun 's going down. No foretoken of anyone. No sign of you. If this is a dream which I now honestly believe it is, where the sin are you ? The beach seems isolated, just the heart murmur of the sea ... an episodic gull squawking. Inland, there seems to be zilch much… no planetary house of human being sprightliness at to the lowest degree, darkening tree diagram, not tropical. No tell-tale pin peak of light, no music nothing.

It is beautiful, unagitated and a lilliputian scary. I am expectant of my dream to bend the usual route… some giant, some animate being to show up… maybe a savage or a group of savage men… I look all dressed for a chase !

I walk along the beach, trying to wield an adequate aloofness to the shoreline and the treeline. I do not want to bide out in the capable when dark falls and I do not want to wander into the trees ( they look menacing ). Maybe I will find some stone, a cove, a cave… don't recognise how that will be any less scary… but maybe I will find one with brightness, big fluorescent lights that line the cave bulwark and lead me to a room with a nice bed and maybe you. Hey, it is a dream, I should be capable to wish well for it and induce it look. Isn't that how stargaze work ? Apparently not, as I seem to ingest been walking quite a while now with no signboard of anything, not even goliath. I am exhausted now. Maybe it is time to awaken up, for real.

I guess that's not an choice here. I am still walking on the beach, it is now dark and the sea is sparkling silver with the moonlight… thank heavens for the lunar month. The waves are agitated now. I look back along the way I've walked, the sea is much calmer there. It could be a ambition anomaly or I am nearing some jolting part of the beach. I might actually feel the cave. The beach also seems to be narrowing, the treeline steadily gaining on me, the sea pushing me towards the trees. Adjusting my eyes to only born light feels strange, I can barely make out the careen poking through the moxie. The moon is just risen and it throws odd shadows but I am now almost on what seems to be a stone bed, on an incline. The treeline is too close for comfort and seems to be rushing towards me as I climb the side. Suddenly, the trees are replaced by a rock wall, it seemed to have just appeared. Exhausted mind playing tricks. I decide to walk along the wall, something to run against in my dream that is now turning into a incubus, almost. I am barely paying tending to anything except the look of the rock wall and don't even actualize when the murmur of the sea recedes and when the iniquity gets inky.

My handwriting smasher something and it clangs. A metallic clang. A manmade sound. I grope around the wall and feel the generator of the noise… a chain. It feels like a chain. Wait… is that a shackle. Finding the turnup of the hamper coincides with my realisation that I am now in some sort of chamber or spelunk or passage and that what little I can see is by some miracle of the dreaming. Almost nightmare to wax blown incubus, I guess. I grope my way around the walls, fingerbreadth touching more metal irons ( or shackles ). Something sharp pricks my finger, tracing down they feel like a row of spindle, naah… a matrix of spikes. My mind endeavour to recreate the room in light… and it is not a squeamish sight… it is forming a nice torture bedroom in my heading. I stumble on something wooden, a plank… I try to make a motion it, but it seems fixed. I have a feel that the walls are ever so slightly turning my direction of movement and that I might actually be in a round chamber. The feeling is reinforced when I trip again on a wooden board after stumbling around a while. It is either a really long torment chamber or a round elbow room ! I gingerly try to place my bum on the wooden plank, hoping it won't see-saw on me. It does not. Phew ! Sitting down on what I want to reimagine as an barren bench in the darkness, releases the pent up enfeeblement in me. I slip into an almost unconscious sleep.

I wake up again, sore, from the walk, from the unrelenting wooden bench…and still in my pipe dream ! It is still darkness. I try to moderate up my hand in forepart of my aspect to stop the extent of visibility. metal clangs. Oh goodness ! I am in shackles. This is not an betterment. Besides, I am feeling cold… and the cold is creeping into my ‘ hole-and-corner'places… Jeez ! I am au naturel, spread-eagle and shackled… and as good as blind-folded. What now ?

Strangely, my body is tingling… not indisputable if it is fear or prevision. In my head, horrific persona of creepy crawlies attacking is interspersed with those of many hands touching, groping, caressing my raw body. Something graze my pull up stakes tit. I gasp. What feels like many butterfly feet trace down my belly, and back up to my breast. I know my invertebrate foot are tied apart, but on instinct I try to clench my knees and I realise that my knees are tied apart. I am wide open up to whoever ( or whatever ) is in there with me.

I close my eyes ( though it doesn't affair if they are open… it's just too dark ) and I imagine you in there with me. And that pinching of my nipples… I imagine it is you. It hurts… I want to scream… but it is just a whimper that comes out. The ‘ fingers'stop twisting my mamilla, the rush of blood back to them makes me pant and before I can arrange my senses, a barrage of gyp land on me down there. I think I just got pussy whipped ! That burns like hell… and not surprisingly, I am turned on AND in a lot of botheration. I can sense a presence… it's just the air that feels so… ‘ you'get no sound at all.

The cat-o-nine tails ( it has to be that ) lands on my right boob. And even though I know that I could be whipped anytime, not knowing where and what time interval is unnerving. As if to ease the hurt a bit, a fingerbreadth or finger caress my snatch lips… parting them, probing the entering softly… causing my breathing place to constrain and every other sinew to untie. The oftenness of bump and caresses increase, some are simultaneous that I am no longer certain if there is just one persecutor in there with me.

I can feel my body burn mark and sting to the point of indifference. I can picture welts crisscrossing my bosom and thigh. My face is wet with tears and my pussy is wet and dripping.

Whatever platform I am shackled to is tipped up, vertically… causing my bum to slip lower. The word-painting I would award with the spot I am in… sheesh ! I am glad for the inky blackness of the way. I feel weaponry under my thighs… thank goodness they feel like arms… I had almost lost hope of the teaser ( s ) being human being, let alone you. I think I know what is coming ... something grueling, yet soft… parts my pussy lips and it is definitely not a finger. I half whisper, one-half cry asking ‘ you'to be gentle. finger's breadth wrap around my throat… stopping my pleading immediately… reducing me to gasping for air while ‘ your'cock gibe into me. Nothing gentle about that. ‘ You'piston in and out. I am fighting to breathe. I feel like I am being torn apart down under. darn ! I wanted to be fucked… but this is painful… and yet it feels good… feels damn good. A knife section my lips ... the one on my face… and I taste ‘ you'for the first base time. Yes… it is you. No one else ( even with my lack of comparables ) tastes and odor that combination… tobacco and midnight teakwood. Everything about this fucking is fucking aggressive… nada gentle about the kiss… my rim are bruised, I am aching and hurting all over but with the cognition that I am safe in your branch I want more.

I feel the muscles inside me tightening… both yours and mine. I squeeze as hard as I can, trying to hold you sloshed inside me… of course of action it is just in my head. Being tied up like that all my squeezing is mental.

I am on the verge of what I know will be a shamefully, shatteringly amazing climax when I hear the first words since I woke up… A gruff, throaty whisper… powerful in spite of the low volume,"You will not make bold cum before I let you."I want to have got back… I can't. I am worried about the consequences… my branch are aching hung the way I am. Every inch of me is sore… and I want to stand on my infantry. Yet… when you flood me with your cum, I can not stop myself… I try to shroud my orgasm in the shiver of your consistency. But I know that you know. Even as my physical structure reels from the undulation of electrical shock coursing through me, a slap lands on my right cheek… stunning me but not stopping the moving ridge washing over me. And the only gentle act, a kiss on the smartness boldness is underlined with an angry"You will pay for that !"

Despite the infliction and the awkward hanging military posture, I am so play out from being so thoroughly fucked that I can barely hold my eyes open. I must have dozed off, because what wakes me is being doused with icy cold water. They feel like splinters of ice cutting me. I am instantly awake. And cognizant that I am no longer tied up, I was lying down on something strong, which has currently pooled up with immobilise water. I sit up and now there is the faintest of glows in the room… like the way is lit up by a single firefly.

You push me down on to the bed/bench/whatever… face down, my belly and breasts touching the freezing piddle that still stings like crazy. My arms are pulled up behind me and what tactile property like a cringle of roach slips on to my wrists. All I can say is"Oh No !, Please no"and all I get back from you is"meter for your penalty"…

Then the phone rings… I wake up dazed, naked under my blanket… my handwriting guiltily between my branch."hullo"

"Hello… How are you ?"

"I… I am… I am glowingly OK, I guess ?"

"Er… why ?"

"I na… I had this dream…"

"There you go !"

"Arre… you want the brusk rendering or the yearn one ?"

"The short version"

"Well… huh ok… in that case… I just got thoroughly fucked !"

"Ahemm… Inappropriate !"

"I believe my pussy disagrees"

"Besharam… I think I will pass along by, if you are ok with it."

"I'll be waiting… hey… do you by any opportunity have those cuff ?"

"Byeeee… see ya soon."

*Besharam is a Hindi Christian Bible, it means 'shameless'.