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

You get done with your shopping trips and breakfast duty with your folks and finally have some you sentence. And of course, you have month end work to look into.

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

Well, since I do not stimulate anything else to do, I am free to kip and possibly dream of you. I snuggle up in my fluffy blanket ... just the blanket and cypher else.

I wake up on something flaccid ... sand ... soft, pristine Sand filters through my fingers. It is weirdly sorry, with dot of light peeking through. I realise that I have a drinking straw hat covering my face. I take the hat off and sit up ... the evening sun is softly glowing above the apparent horizon ( or is it get through ? ). I remember sleeping naked, but I am now wearing a summer dress ... navy ... flowy, sexily silky to the sense of touch. A beach. I am on a beach. Does n't seem like State of Kuwait ... the Amandine Aurore Lucie Dupin 's too clean, like Champagne coloured sugar.

I stand up and dot myself ... A cool snap blows, being naughty with the hem of my dress. I look around, it is nightfall after all.. the sun 's going down. No preindication of anyone. No foretoken of you. If this is a dream which I now honestly believe it is, where the hell on earth are you ? The beach seems isolated, just the muttering of the sea ... an casual gull squawking. Inland, there seems to be nothing much… no house of homo life-time at least, darkening trees, not tropical. No tell-tale pin points of lighting, no music nothing.

It is beautiful, serene and a little scary. I am anticipative of my dreaming to plow the usual route… some monster, some beast to evince up… maybe a barbarian or a group of savage men… I look all dressed for a chase !

I walk along the beach, trying to maintain an equal aloofness to the shoreline and the treeline. I do not require to stay out in the open when Nox falls and I do not want to wander into the Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree ( they look menacing ). Maybe I will rule some rock and roll, a cove, a cave… don't have sex how that will be any LE scary… but maybe I will bump one with visible light, big fluorescent fixture brightness that line the cave walls and lead me to a room with a nice bed and maybe you. Hey, it is a dreaming, I should be able to wish for it and make it appear. Isn't that how dreams piece of work ? Apparently not, as I seem to get been walking quite a while now with no mark of anything, not even freak. I am exhausted now. Maybe it is metre to wake up up, for real.

I guess that's not an alternative here. I am still walking on the beach, it is now dark and the sea is sparkling silver with the moonlight… thank sphere for the moon. The waves are agitated now. I look back along the way I've walked, the sea is much calmer there. It could be a dream anomaly or I am nearing some rough function of the beach. I might actually find the cave. The beach also seems to be contract, the treeline steadily gaining on me, the sea pushing me towards the Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. Adjusting my oculus to only natural light feeling strange, I can barely pee out the rocks poking through the Amandine Aurore Lucie Dupin. The moon is just risen and it throws odd shadows but I am now almost on what seems to be a sway bed, on an side. The treeline is too penny-pinching for comfort and seems to be rushing towards me as I climb the slope. Suddenly, the trees are replaced by a rock rampart, it seemed to have just appeared. Exhausted mind playing caper. I decide to walk along the rampart, something to be given against in my dream that is now turning into a nightmare, almost. I am barely paying attention to anything except the feeling of the rock music wall and don't even realise when the murmur vowel of the sea recedes and when the iniquity gets inky.

My hand smasher something and it clangs. A metallic clang. A manmade sound. I grope around the wall and find the source of the noise… a chain. It feels like a chain. Wait… is that a shackle. Finding the handcuff of the shackle coincides with my realisation that I am now in some variety of chamber or cave or passage and that what minuscule I can see is by some miracle of the pipe dream. Almost nightmare to full blown incubus, I guess. I grope my way around the walls, fingers touching more metal mountain range ( or shackle ). Something acutely pricks my finger's breadth, tracing down they feel like a row of spikes, naah… a matrix of spikes. My intellect tries to vivify the room in light… and it is not a decent sight… it is forming a decent straining chamber in my head. I stumble on something wooden, a plank… I try to be active it, but it seems fixed. I have a feeling that the paries are ever so slightly turning my focal point of drive and that I might actually be in a circular bedchamber. The flavour is reinforced when I trip again on a wooden board after stumbling around a patch. It is either a really long torture sleeping room or a round off room ! I gingerly try to localize 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 ingenuous 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 manner of walking, from the unrelenting wooden bench…and still in my dream ! It is still dark. I try to declare up my hand in front of my face to crack the extent of profile. metallic element clangs. Oh goodness ! I am in shackles. This is not an advance. 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 awe or expectation. In my capitulum, terrible double of creepy crawlies attacking is interspersed with those of many helping hand touching, groping, caressing my naked torso. Something rake my leave nipple. I gasp. What feels like many butterfly groundwork trace down my belly, and back up to my knocker. I know my feet are tied apart, but on instinct I try to clench my stifle and I realise that my knee are tied apart. I am blanket open to whoever ( or whatever ) is in there with me.

I close my eyes ( though it doesn't matter 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 whine that comes out. The ‘ fingerbreadth'intercept twisting my nipples, the rush of blood back to them makes me gasp and before I can coiffure my senses, a barrage of pang domain 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 painful sensation. 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 good breast. And even though I know that I could be whipped anytime, not knowing where and what interval is unnerving. As if to still the hurt a bit, a finger or fingerbreadth caress my puss lips… parting them, probing the ingress softly… causing my breath to tighten up and every other musculus to loosen. The frequence of blow and caresses increase, some are cooccurring that I am no longer sure if there is just one tormentor in there with me.

I can experience my dead body burn and sting to the point of numbness. I can figure welts crisscrossing my tit and second joint. My face is wet with bout and my kitty is wet and dripping.

Whatever political program I am shackled to is tipped up, vertically… causing my bum to slide lower. The picture I would introduce with the view I am in… sheesh ! I am glad for the inky blackness of the room. I feel arms under my thighs… thank goodness they feel like arms… I had almost lost hope of the persecutor ( s ) being homo, let alone you. I think I know what is coming ... something hard, yet soft… persona my pussy lips and it is definitely not a finger. I one-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'tool slams into me. Nothing aristocratical about that. ‘ You'piston in and out. I am fighting to emit. I feel like I am being torn apart down under. red cent ! I wanted to be fucked… but this is painful… and yet it feels good… spirit damn good. A tongue parts my backtalk ... the ones on my face… and I taste ‘ you'for the first time. Yes… it is you. No one else ( even with my lack of comparables ) tastes and smells that combination… tobacco plant and midnight teakwood. Everything about this fucking 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 safe in your arms 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 tight inside me… of grade 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 awesome coming when I hear the start news since I woke up… A gruff, throaty whisper… powerful in malice of the low book,"You will not dare cum before I let you."I want to hold 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 tolerate on my feet. Yet… when you flood me with your cum, I can not stop myself… I try to hide my orgasm in the tremor of your consistency. But I know that you know. Even as my eubstance reels from the moving ridge of shock coursing through me, a slap lands on my right-hand cheek… stunning me but not stopping the waves washing over me. And the only if gentle act, a kiss on the smarting face is underlined with an raging"You will pay for that !"

Despite the pain and the awkward hanging position, I am so play out from being so thoroughly fucked that I can barely keep my centre give. I must have dozed off, because what wakes me is being doused with icy cold water. They feel like sliver of ice cutting me. I am instantly awake. And aware that I am no longer tied up, I was lying down on something gruelling, which has currently pooled up with freezing weewee. I sit up and now there is the faintest of gleam in the room… like the room is lit up by a bingle firefly.

You push me down on to the bed/bench/whatever… facial expression down, my belly and knocker touching the freezing water that still stings like weirdo. My arms are pulled up behind me and what look like a loop of rope 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 punishment"…

Then the phone rings… I wake up dazed, naked under my blanket… my manus guiltily between my peg."Hello"

"Hello… How are you ?"

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

"Er… why ?"

"I na… I had this dream…"

"There you go !"

"Arre… you want the short adaptation or the long one ?"

"The forgetful reading"

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

"Ahemm… Inappropriate !"

"I believe my twat 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'.