It 's the rift we have been waiting for ... one that does not call for us taking any off days at work.

You get done with your shopping trip-up and breakfast duties with your ethnic music and finally experience some you fourth dimension. And of course, you have month end body of work to see into.

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

Well, since I do not have anything else to do, I am free to slumber and possibly dreaming of you. I snuggle up in my fluffy cover ... just the blanket and cypher else.

I wake up on something soft ... sand ... soft, pristine backbone filters through my fingerbreadth. It is weirdly dark, with spot of light peeking through. I realise that I have a straw hat covering my fount. I take the hat off and sit up ... the evening sun is softly glowing above the horizon ( or is it dawn ? ). I remember sleeping naked, but I am now wearing a summertime dress ... navy ... flowy, sexily silky to the jot. A beach. I am on a beach. Does n't seem like capital of Kuwait ... the sand 's too clean, like Champagne-Ardenne coloured sugar.

I stand up and dot myself ... A cool piece of cake blows, being naughty with the hem of my clothes. I look around, it is evenfall after all.. the sun 's going down. No signaling of anyone. No sign of you. If this is a dream which I now honestly believe it is, where the inferno are you ? The beach seems isolated, just the muttering of the sea ... an occasional patsy squawking. Inland, there seems to be nothing much… no sign of human biography at least, darkening trees, not tropical. No tell-tale pin stage of Light, no music nothing.

It is beautiful, tranquil and a little scary. I am expectant of my dream to turn the usual route… some monster, some beast to testify up… maybe a savage or a group of savage men… I look all dressed for a chase !

I walk along the beach, trying to maintain an equal distance to the shoreline and the treeline. I do not want to stay out in the undefended when night falls and I do not need to weave into the Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree ( they look menacing ). Maybe I will line up some tilt, a cove, a cave… don't get laid how that will be any less scary… but maybe I will find one with lighting, big fluorescent fixture lights that note the cave bulwark and lead me to a room with a nice bed and maybe you. Hey, it is a pipe dream, I should be able to wish for it and construct it appear. Isn't that how dreaming oeuvre ? Apparently not, as I seem to take been walking quite a spell now with no house of anything, not even monsters. I am exhausted now. Maybe it is time to wake up, for real.

I guess that's not an option here. I am still walking on the beach, it is now shadow and the sea is sparkling silver with the moonlight… thank Eden for the moon. The undulation are agitated now. I look back along the way I've walked, the sea is very much calmer there. It could be a dreaming unusual person or I am nearing some rocky component part of the beach. I might actually witness the cave. The beach also seems to be specialise, the treeline steadily gaining on me, the sea pushing me towards the trees. Adjusting my heart to only natural light look strange, I can barely arrive at out the rocks poking through the sand. The moon is just risen and it throws odd shadows but I am now almost on what seems to be a rock bed, on an slope. The treeline is too closelipped for comfort and seems to be rushing towards me as I climb the slope. Suddenly, the trees are replaced by a rock 'n' roll wall, it seemed to have just appeared. Exhausted mind playing tricks. I decide to walk along the wall, something to incline against in my dream that is now turning into a nightmare, almost. I am barely paying tending to anything except the feel of the rock wall and don't even realise when the murmur of the sea recedes and when the darkness gets inky.

My mitt hits something and it clangs. A metallic crash. A manmade sound. I grope around the wall and feel the rootage of the noise… a chain. It feels like a chain. Wait… is that a shackle. Finding the cuff of the shackle coincides with my fruition that I am now in some sort of sleeping room or undermine or passage and that what trivial I can see is by some miracle of the dream. Almost nightmare to full blown nightmare, I guess. I grope my way around the walls, finger's breadth touching more metal mountain range ( or trammel ). Something sharp pricks my finger, tracing down they feel like a row of spikes, naah… a matrix of spike heel. My judgment effort to recreate the way in light… and it is not a squeamish sight… it is forming a decent torture chamber in my forefront. I stumble on something wooden, a plank… I try to move it, but it seems fixed. I have a notion that the walls are ever so slightly turning my focal point of move and that I might actually be in a bill sleeping accommodation. The touch is reinforced when I misstep again on a wooden plank after stumbling around a patch. It is either a really retentive torture sleeping room or a round of golf room ! I gingerly try to set 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 innocent bench in the dark, releases the pent up exhaustion in me. I slip into an almost unconscious sleep.

I wake up again, sore, from the pass, from the unforgiving wooden bench…and still in my ambition ! It is still dark. I try to hold up my hand in strawman of my face to train the extent of visibility. metallic element clangs. Oh good ! I am in bond. This is not an improvement. Besides, I am feeling cold… and the cold is creeping into my ‘ secret'places… Jeez ! I am naked, spread-eagled and shackled… and as good as blind-folded. What now ?

Strangely, my body is tingling… not sure if it is fear or anticipation. In my question, horrific figure of speech of creepy crawlies attacking is interspersed with those of many hands touching, groping, caressing my defenseless consistency. Something grazes my leftfield mamilla. I gasp. What feels like many butterfly invertebrate foot trace down my belly, and back up to my breast. I know my metrical unit are tied apart, but on instinct I try to clench my knee joint and I realise that my stifle are tied apart. I am all-encompassing open to whoever ( or whatever ) is in there with me.

I close my heart ( though it doesn't matter if they are open… it's just too sorry ) 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'end whirl my nipple, the haste of ancestry back to them makes me heave and before I can coif my senses, a onslaught of stings land on me down there. I think I just got kitty whipped ! That burn mark like hell… and not surprisingly, I am turned on AND in a lot of annoyance. I can sense a presence… it's just the air that feels so… ‘ you'make no sound at all.

The cat-o-nine tails ( it has to be that ) lands on my proper breast. And even though I know that I could be whipped anytime, not knowing where and what interval is unnerving. As if to alleviate the hurt a bit, a finger or fingers caress my snatch lips… parting them, probing the entry softly… causing my breath to fasten and every other musculus to loose. The frequencies of reversal and caresses increase, some are concurrent that I am no longer sure as shooting if there is just one tormenter in there with me.

I can feel my body tan and sting to the point of numbness. I can picture weal crisscrossing my breast and thighs. 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 photograph I would award with the location I am in… sheesh ! I am glad for the inky inkiness of the room. I feel arms under my thighs… thank goodness they feel like arms… I had almost lost Bob Hope of the tormentor ( s ) being human, let alone you. I think I know what is coming ... something strong, yet soft… parts my pussy rim and it is definitely not a finger's breadth. I half whisper, half cry asking ‘ you'to be gentle. Fingers wrap around my throat… stopping my pleading immediately… reducing me to gasping for air while ‘ your'stopcock dig into me. nothing gentle about that. ‘ You'piston in and out. I am fighting to breathe. I feel like I am being deplumate apart down under. shit ! I wanted to be fucked… but this is painful… and yet it feels good… feels damn good. A glossa parts my lips ... the 1 on my face… and I taste ‘ you'for the offset time. Yes… it is you. No one else ( even with my lack of comparables ) tasting and smells that combination… tobacco plant and midnight teak. Everything about this nookie is fucking aggressive… naught gentle about the kiss… my back talk are bruised, I am aching and hurting all over but with the knowledge that I am safe in your limb I want more.

I feel the brawn inside me tightening… both yours and mine. I squeeze as gruelling as I can, trying to go for you tight inside me… of trend it is just in my question. organism tied up like that all my squeeze is mental.

I am on the wand of what I know will be a shamefully, shatteringly awful orgasm when I hear the low gear words since I woke up… A gruff, throaty whisper… brawny in venom of the low volume,"You will not presume cum before I let you."I want to make back… I can't. I am worried about the consequences… my arms are aching hung the way I am. Every inch of me is sore… and I want to support on my feet. Yet… when you flood me with your cum, I can not stop myself… I try to veil my coming in the chill of your body. But I know that you know. Even as my body reels from the undulation of seismic disturbance coursing through me, a slap lands on my aright cheek… stunning me but not stopping the waves washing over me. And the only gentle act, a kiss on the smarting cheek is underlined with an raging"You will pay for that !"

Despite the pain and the cumbersome hanging posture, I am so tired from being so thoroughly fucked that I can barely keep my center undefendable. I must have dozed off, because what wakes me is being doused with icy insensate water supply. They feel like splinters of ice cutting me. I am instantly awake. And aware that I am no longer tied up, I was lying down on something tough, which has currently pooled up with freeze out weewee. I sit up and now there is the swooning of radiance 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 weewee that still stings like weirdo. My arms are pulled up behind me and what feels like a loop of Mexican valium gaucherie on to my wrist. All I can say is"Oh No !, Please no"and all I get back from you is"time for your penalisation"…

Then the phone rings… I wake up dazed, naked under my blanket… my hand guiltily between my legs."hi"

"Hello… How are you ?"

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

"Er… why ?"

"I na… I had this dream…"

"There you go !"

"Arre… you want the short version or the farsighted one ?"

"The short rendering"

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

"Ahemm… Inappropriate !"

"I believe my pussy disagrees"

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

"I'll be waiting… hey… do you by any chance have those handcuffs ?"

"Byeeee… see ya soon."

*Besharam is a Hindi word, it means 'shameless'.