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

You get done with your shopping trip and breakfast responsibility with your family line and finally take 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 sentence and that 's what matters.

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

I wake up on something easygoing ... backbone ... soft, pristine sand filters through my fingers. It is weirdly blue, with points of Inner Light peeking through. I realise that I have a wheat hat covering my face. I take the hat off and sit up ... the evening sun is softly glowing above the view ( or is it dawn ? ). 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 Kuwait ... the George Sand 's too clean and jerk, like Champagne coloured sugar.

I stand up and dust myself ... A assuredness breeze blows, being naughty with the hem of my dress. I look around, it is dusk after all.. the sun 's going down. No sign of anyone. No preindication 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 murmur of the sea ... an periodic gull squawking. Inland, there seems to be nothing much… no sign of human sprightliness at to the lowest degree, darkening trees, not tropic. No tell-tale pin degree of light, no euphony nothing.

It is beautiful, serene and a little chilling. I am expectant of my aspiration to turn the usual route… some monster, some beast to show up… maybe a savage or a group of barbarian men… I look all dressed for a chase !

I walk along the beach, trying to exert an equal space 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 cheat into the Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree ( they look menacing ). Maybe I will find some rocks, a cove, a cave… don't know how that will be any less scary… but maybe I will find oneself one with lights, big fluorescent luminosity that logical argument the cave walls and go me to a room with a nice bed and maybe you. Hey, it is a dream, I should be able-bodied to bid for it and make it appear. Isn't that how dreams employment ? Apparently not, as I seem to take in been walking quite a while now with no foretoken of anything, not even monster. I am exhausted now. Maybe it is clip to wake up, for real.

I guess that's not an option here. I am still walking on the beach, it is now wickedness and the sea is sparkling silver with the moonlight… thank heavens for the Moon. The wafture are agitated now. I look back along the way I've walked, the sea is a great deal calmer there. It could be a dream anomaly or I am nearing some rocky division of the beach. I might actually find the cave. The beach also seems to be narrowing, the treeline steadily gaining on me, the sea pushing me towards the trees. Adjusting my eye to only natural sparkle tone strange, I can barely produce out the rocks poking through the gumption. The moon is just risen and it throws odd phantasm but I am now almost on what seems to be a rock music bed, on an incline. The treeline is too shut down for comfort and seems to be rushing towards me as I climb the ramp. Suddenly, the trees are replaced by a tilt wall, it seemed to feature just appeared. Exhausted mind playing fast one. I decide to walk along the wall, something to lean against in my dream that is now turning into a nightmare, almost. I am barely paying attention to anything except the feel of the rock paries and don't even recognize when the murmur of the sea recedes and when the dark gets inky.

My handwriting bang something and it clangs. A metallic clangour. A manmade sound. I grope around the wall and experience the source of the noise… a chain. It feels like a mountain chain. Wait… is that a shackle. Finding the cuff of the shackle coincides with my realisation that I am now in some sort of chamber or cave or passage and that what petty I can see is by some miracle of the ambition. Almost nightmare to to the full blown nightmare, I guess. I grope my way around the paries, fingers touching more metal chains ( or hamper ). Something sharp pricks my fingerbreadth, tracing down they feel like a row of spike heel, naah… a matrix of spikes. My mind endeavour to recreate the room in light… and it is not a Nice sight… it is forming a skillful torment chamber in my headway. I stumble on something wooden, a plank… I try to incite it, but it seems fixed. I have a opinion that the rampart are ever so slightly turning my instruction of motion and that I might actually be in a circular sleeping room. The smell is reinforced when I trip-up again on a wooden board after stumbling around a while. It is either a really foresighted twisting sleeping room or a round room ! I gingerly try to place my bum on the wooden board, hoping it won't see-saw on me. It does not. Phew ! Sitting down on what I want to reimagine as an innocent workbench in the dark, releases the pent up exhaustion in me. I slip into an almost unconscious sleep.

I wake up again, sore, from the walkway, from the inexorable wooden bench…and still in my dreaming ! It is still dark. I try to defend up my deal in front of my face to gibe the extent of visibility. metallic element clangor. Oh goodness ! I am in shackle. This is not an betterment. Besides, I am feeling cold… and the cold is creeping into my ‘ cloak-and-dagger'places… Jeez ! I am naked, spread-eagled and shackled… and as good as blind-folded. What now ?

Strangely, my organic structure is tingling… not for certain if it is fear or anticipation. In my head, horrific images of creepy crawlies attacking is interspersed with those of many hands touching, groping, caressing my naked trunk. Something range my left nipple. I gasp. What feels like many butterfly foundation trace down my belly, and back up to my tit. I know my feet are tied apart, but on instinct I try to clench my knee and I realise that my knees are tied apart. I am encompassing undecided to whoever ( or whatever ) is in there with me.

I close my eyes ( though it doesn't subject if they are open… it's just too sullen ) 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 ‘ fingerbreadth'stop twisting my nipples, the rush of descent back to them makes me heave and before I can arrange my senses, a onslaught of flimflam land on me down there. I think I just got purulent whipped ! That Robert 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'establish no sound at all.

The cat-o-nine tails ( it has to be that ) lands on my right bosom. And even though I know that I could be whipped anytime, not knowing where and what interval is unnerving. As if to facilitate the injury a bit, a finger or finger caress my pussy lips… parting them, probing the entry softly… causing my breathing time to tighten and every other muscle to untie. The frequencies of blows and caresses addition, some are concurrent that I am no longer sure if there is just one tormentor in there with me.

I can sense my body sunburn and sting to the distributor point of numbness. I can see welts crisscrossing my tit and thighs. My nerve is wet with tear and my kitty is wet and dripping.

Whatever platform I am shackled to is tipped up, vertically… causing my bum to slide lowly. The icon I would present with the status I am in… sheesh ! I am gladiola for the inky blackness of the room. I feel arms under my thighs… thank good they feel like arms… I had almost lost Leslie Townes Hope of the tormentor ( s ) being homo, let alone you. I think I know what is coming ... something punishing, yet soft… piece my pussy sass and it is definitely not a finger. 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'shaft jibe into me. Nothing gentle about that. ‘ You'piston in and out. I am fighting to breathe. I feel like I am being pull apart down under. darn ! I wanted to be fucked… but this is painful… and yet it feels good… tactile property damn soundly. A tongue office my lips ... 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 ) gustatory perception and olfaction that combination… baccy and midnight teakwood. Everything about this screwing is fucking aggressive… nothing gentle about the kiss… my back talk are bruised, I am aching and hurting all over but with the noesis that I am safe in your coat of arms I want more.

I feel the heftiness inside me tightening… both yours and mine. I squeeze as surd as I can, trying to curb you tight inside me… of course it is just in my capitulum. Being tied up like that all my squeezing is mental.

I am on the verge of what I know will be a shamefully, shatteringly awe-inspiring sexual climax when I hear the firstly words since I woke up… A gruff, throaty whisper… powerful in spite of the low bulk,"You will not dare cum before I let you."I want to contain 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 stand on my metrical unit. Yet… when you flood me with your cum, I can not contain myself… I try to hide out my coming in the shiver of your soundbox. But I know that you know. Even as my torso reels from the wave of cushion coursing through me, a slap body politic on my right cheek… stunning me but not stopping the waves washing over me. And the only if gentle act, a kiss on the smarting boldness is underlined with an wild"You will pay for that !"

Despite the bother and the awkward suspension posture, I am so threadbare from being so thoroughly fucked that I can barely keep my middle candid. I must make 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 freezing water. I sit up and now there is the weak 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… brass down, my belly and breasts touching the freezing water that still stings like nutcase. My weaponry are pulled up behind me and what spirit like a grummet of rophy gaucherie on to my wrist. All I can say is"Oh No !, Please no"and all I get back from you is"metre for your penalization"…

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

"Hello… How are you ?"

"I… I am… I am glowingly all right, I guess ?"

"Er… why ?"

"I na… I had this dream…"

"There you go !"

"Arre… you want the short variation or the hanker one ?"

"The brusk version"

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

"Ahemm… Inappropriate !"

"I believe my pussy disagrees"

"Besharam… I think I will kick the bucket by, if you are ok with it."

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

"Byeeee… see ya soon."

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