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

You get done with your shopping trip-up and breakfast duties with your folks and finally possess some you time. And of grade, you have month end work to look into.

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

fountainhead, since I do not have anything else to do, I am free to sleep and possibly dream of you. I snuggle up in my fluffy blanket ... just the blanket and zip else.

I wake up on something subdued ... sand ... mild, pristine Sand filters through my fingers. It is weirdly moody, with pointedness of visible radiation peeking through. I realise that I have a drinking straw hat covering my expression. I take the hat off and sit up ... the even sun is softly glowing above the apparent horizon ( or is it dawn ? ). I remember sleeping naked, but I am now wearing a summertime dress ... navy ... flowy, sexily silky to the tinge. A beach. I am on a beach. Does n't appear like Kuwait ... the sand 's too clean, like bubbly coloured sugar.

I stand up and dust myself ... A sang-froid gentle wind blows, being naughty with the hem of my garb. I look around, it is dusk after all.. the sun 's going down. No sign of anyone. No sign of you. If this is a dream which I now honestly believe it is, where the hell are you ? The beach seems isolated, just the mussitation of the sea ... an episodic gull squawking. Inland, there seems to be goose egg much… no sign of human aliveness at least, darkening tree, not tropical. No tell-tale pin head of light, no medicine nothing.

It is beautiful, unagitated and a little scarey. I am big of my aspiration to turn the usual route… some monster, some wildcat to show up… maybe a savage or a radical 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 open when night falls and I do not desire to betray into the trees ( they look menacing ). Maybe I will find some rock 'n' roll, a cove, a cave… don't know how that will be any less scary… but maybe I will recover one with lights, big fluorescent lights that line the cave walls and guide me to a room with a skillful bed and maybe you. Hey, it is a dream, I should be able-bodied to like for it and make it appear. Isn't that how dreams work ? Apparently not, as I seem to receive been walking quite a while now with no preindication of anything, not even goliath. I am exhausted now. Maybe it is metre to inflame up, for real.

I guess that's not an alternative here. I am still walking on the beach, it is now saturnine and the sea is sparkling silver with the moonlight… thank heavens for the moon. The Wave are agitated now. I look back along the way I've walked, the sea is a lot calmer there. It could be a dream anomalousness or I am nearing some bumpy part of the beach. I might actually get the cave. The beach also seems to be narrowing, the treeline steadily gaining on me, the sea pushing me towards the tree. Adjusting my heart to only instinctive light smell strange, I can barely make out the rocks poking through the sand. The synodic month is just risen and it throws odd shadows but I am now almost on what seems to be a rock bed, on an incline. The treeline is too penny-pinching for puff and seems to be rushing towards me as I climb the incline. Suddenly, the trees are replaced by a rock wall, it seemed to have just appeared. Exhausted mind playing deception. I decide to walk along the wall, something to lean against in my dream that is now turning into a incubus, almost. I am barely paying attention to anything except the feel of the rock-and-roll bulwark and don't even realise when the murmur of the sea recedes and when the shadow gets inky.

My manus bang something and it clangs. A metallic clang. A manmade sound. I grope around the wall and feel the generator of the noise… a Sir Ernst Boris Chain. It feels like a chain of mountains. Wait… is that a bond. Finding the cuff of the shackle coincides with my fruition 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 dream. Almost nightmare to full-of-the-moon blown nightmare, I guess. I grope my way around the bulwark, finger's breadth touching more metal mountain chain ( or shackles ). Something sharp shaft my fingerbreadth, tracing down they feel like a row of spikes, naah… a matrix of capitulum. My idea try to recreate the room in light… and it is not a gracious sight… it is forming a nice overrefinement chamber in my head. I stumble on something wooden, a plank… I try to move it, but it seems fixed. I have a tactile sensation that the walls are ever so slightly turning my direction of drift and that I might actually be in a rotary chamber. The feeling is reinforced when I trip again on a wooden board after stumbling around a spell. It is either a really foresighted torture sleeping accommodation or a round of golf elbow room ! I gingerly try to identify 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 terrace in the night, releases the pent up enfeeblement in me. I slip into an almost unconscious sleep.

I wake up again, sore, from the pass, from the unrelenting wooden bench…and still in my dream ! It is still dark. I try to hold up my paw in forepart of my typeface to check the extent of visibility. alloy clangs. Oh goodness ! I am in hamper. This is not an betterment. Besides, I am feeling cold… and the frigidness is creeping into my ‘ mystic'places… Jeez ! I am naked, spread-eagle and shackled… and as good as blind-folded. What now ?

Strangely, my trunk is tingling… not sure if it is veneration or prediction. In my question, horrific figure of creepy crawlies attacking is interspersed with those of many bridge player touching, groping, caressing my bare soundbox. Something grazes my bequeath teat. I gasp. What feels like many butterfly feet trace down my belly, and back up to my chest. I know my feet are tied apart, but on inherent aptitude I try to clench my human knee and I realise that my knee joint are tied apart. I am wide open to whoever ( or whatever ) is in there with me.

I close my center ( though it doesn't matter if they are open… it's just too black ) 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 whine that comes out. The ‘ finger'stop twisting my nipples, the boot of blood back to them makes me puff and before I can stage my pot, a barrage of bunco country on me down there. I think I just got pussy whipped ! That George Burns like hell… and not surprisingly, I am turned on AND in a lot of hurting. I can smell out a presence… it's just the air that feels so… ‘ you'progress to no sound at all.

The cat-o-nine tails ( it has to be that ) lands on my the right way breast. And even though I know that I could be whipped anytime, not knowing where and what interval is unnerving. As if to ease the damage a bit, a finger or fingers caress my purulent lips… parting them, probing the entry softly… causing my breath to fasten and every other brawn to undo. The frequencies of blast and caresses increase, some are simultaneous that I am no longer sure if there is just one persecutor in there with me.

I can sense my body burning and sting to the point of numbness. I can picture welt crisscrossing my bosom and thighs. My facial expression 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 turn down. The picture I would present with the position I am in… sheesh ! I am beaming for the inky pitch blackness of the elbow room. I feel arms under my thighs… thank goodness they feel like arms… I had almost lost hope of the tormentor ( s ) being man, let alone you. I think I know what is coming ... something hard, yet soft… division my cunt rim and it is definitely not a finger. I half whisper, half cry asking ‘ you'to be gentle. fingerbreadth wrap around my throat… stopping my pleading immediately… reducing me to gasping for air while ‘ your'cock slams into me. Nothing gentle about that. ‘ You'piston in and out. I am fighting to respire. I feel like I am being deplumate apart down under. red cent ! I wanted to be fucked… but this is painful… and yet it feels good… spirit damn skilful. A tongue contribution my lip ... the 1 on my face… and I taste ‘ you'for the first time. Yes… it is you. No one else ( even with my want of comparables ) preference and look that combination… tobacco and midnight teakwood. Everything about this piece of tail is fucking aggressive… nothing gentle about the kiss… my lips are bruised, I am aching and hurting all over but with the cognition that I am good in your arms I want more.

I feel the muscles inside me tightening… both yours and mine. I squeeze as laborious as I can, trying to hold you closely inside me… of path 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 awful coming when I hear the offset words since I woke up… A gruff, throaty whisper… mightily in spite of the low volume,"You will not dare cum before I let you."I want to declare back… I can't. I am worried about the consequences… my arms are aching hung the way I am. Every column inch of me is sore… and I want to remain firm on my feet. Yet… when you flood me with your cum, I can not give up myself… I try to hide my sexual climax in the shudders of your body. But I know that you know. Even as my consistency Virginia reel from the wave of shock coursing through me, a slap lands on my mightily cheek… stunning me but not stopping the waves washing over me. And the alone gentle act, a candy kiss on the smarting cheek is underlined with an angry"You will pay for that !"

Despite the nuisance and the inept hanging posture, I am so tired from being so thoroughly fucked that I can barely proceed my heart afford. 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 mindful that I am no longer tied up, I was lying down on something hard, which has currently pooled up with freeze water. I sit up and now there is the faintest of glows in the room… like the room is lit up by a single firefly.

You push me down on to the bed/bench/whatever… side down, my belly and breasts touching the freezing piddle that still stings like crazy. My weapon system are pulled up behind me and what look like a closed circuit of Mexican valium slips on to my wrists. All I can say is"Oh No !, Please no"and all I get back from you is"Time for your penalization"…

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

"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 short version or the yearn one ?"

"The short reading"

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

"Ahemm… Inappropriate !"

"I believe my pussy disagrees"

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

"I'll be waiting… hey… do you by any hazard have those handlock ?"

"Byeeee… see ya soon."

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