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The Dream

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© Copyright 2001 Camille Beaujolie.


About the author:

Firstly, I just wanted to thank jenne and che for helping me write my bio. I didn't know where to start, what to say, and what you, the reader would want to know.

I'm pretty sure you don't want a recap of my life. If you do, here it is ... Where am I from: I was originally from my father, but went to be with my mom one hot and steamy night. Nine months later I was born and life has never been the same since.

How did I start writing erotica? Well, that was actually an accident, or more accurately, a practical joke. I was taking a creative writing course and our assignment was simple. We have to write a novel, tow novellas or a series of poems. With only weeks to go before my final assignment was due, I had nothing on paper. I wanted something stellar, something unforgettable, something shocking. I don't know if my first erotic story was stellar, I doubt it was. It was definately unforgettable and worth every bit of its shock value. You see, quiet girls who are involved heavily in the acedemic culture of their schools don't write PORN. My teacher kept that first story. Gave me a photocopy and requested I sign the original. Too bad he'll never know if I get published, since I don't write under my 'christian' name.

How did I come up with the idea for "The Dream"? Okay, let's set the record straight from the beginning. Am I a slave? Hell, no. Am I a submissive? At times. Okay, that being said, I read a lot. One of the things that influenced this story was the reading I was doing at the time. My books of choice were Anne Rice's "Sleeping Beauty Series" and John Norman's "Gor Chronicles". Both of these series are based heavily on a BDSM theme. I did have a similar dream, but I wasn't the central character, in fact Lyna (the unnamed character in the story) was. I could see her with clarity, I could smell and feel and taste her world. And, I had to tell her story. There is more to her than what I ahve penned thus far, and some day (hopefully) she will get the telling she deserves.



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I dreamed of you last night.

I don’t know if it was the nature of the dream, or the thought that you might actually want to collar me, but either way, I awoke from it in a state of arousal, sweat beads covering my body, and I was afraid ...

I remember once casually mentioning my interest in servitude and that I thought I was submissive in the bedroom, but I never thought the day would come when all my waking moments were consumed with the thought of having a Master, having you as my Master. The thought seemed foreign to me ... that is, until last night. The fear was perhaps from the knowledge that I, the independent, freethinking woman, wanted to be owned, to be enslaved.

I lay on my bed sleepless for some time after my awakening. The images of the dream were still fresh and vivid. If I tried to get some rest, if I closed my eyes to sleep, I was back in that place again.

We were in a dark place, damp and darkened room. Or perhaps it was a cave, a hollow of some sort. I am not sure, except that the walls were made of stone and the mustiness was heavy in my nostrils.

I was on my knees, the rough surface cutting into my flesh. You sat on a rock face. It looked like a crude throne of some sort. I was looking up into your face, tears blurring my vision, and yet, you looked so beautiful. Your eyes were not cast upon me, but were far away. You appeared to be in thought.

I watched your face for some time, trying to read it in the dim light. What emotions lay behind that stern expression? What thoughts danced behind your shadowy eyes? The flickering light from the solitary torch on the wall gave your features an eerie glow.

I suppose, if this had not been a dream, I would have a greater understanding of the answers to those questions. I might even, perhaps, know the circumstances leading up to our being in such a gloomy place. But in dreams, as is sometimes true in the waking world, not all is evident at the time.

I moved my head slightly, as I lowered my gaze. A clinking sound came to my ears and resounded in the recesses of my mind. Ah, yes, there was a chain secured to my collar, the collar signifying that I was yours. I then became more aware of my situation, my surroundings. I wasn’t merely kneeling before you. I was chained before you. I tried to move my hands up to touch your face. I wanted to show you my love, but they had been securely bound behind my back. I could now feel the leather cuffs holding me. As I moved I could feel the tiny locks that had been placed there to prevent my freedom. I was kneeling back on my heels; my legs were, as is customary for a pleasure slave, spread wide. Open to your touch, if you so desired. My arms bound behind my back and a leash secured my collar to a ring at the base of your chair.

It took me by surprise when you said you are going to collar me... make me your slave. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t that I don’t want this that frightens or shocks me, it is that I do want this. I had hoped for some time that you would take me as yours, but surely those were just fantasies... or were they? I had thought often of your hand striking my naked buttocks, meting out your punishment for some wrongdoing or another, but surely those were just random thoughts brought on by my readings. Maybe I shouldn’t read before bed... yes, that must be it, my readings. The dream couldn’t be a betrayal of some inner need to be punished... could it?

The look on your face was disconcerting. I wanted to speak to you, to tell you that everything would turn out all right. I wanted to ask you to seek my confidence; perhaps I could assist you in your decision. I want to say all of these things, and more, but I didn’t. I would have tried, risking your wrath for speaking out of turn, but I knew there was no sense in trying. I could taste the leather on my tongue. I could now feel the ball expanding my mouth, pressing against my cheeks, parting my lips. I looked up at you, the reality of my surroundings hitting home. This problem weighing heavy on your mind was not something I could help you with, was it? No, I was the problem. Something I had done, or perhaps something I had said, judging from the gag, had caused your displeasure... or even shame. You were contemplating my fate!

The thought of me lying across your lap is certainly an enticing one, but that could never happen, such things are unheard of in this day and age. I am a modern woman, in all aspects of the phrase, but the concept of being your slave, your pleasure slave, existing merely for your sexual pleasures had its appeal to me. Why?

I raised my eyes to yours, imploring you to show mercy. O, how I wish I knew what had displeased you so. I would strive to never repeat my error. Your eyes returned my stare. They were not as cold as I had expected them to be. You looked pained, and so gentle. I sensed that this decision was difficult for you. And I understood that I had to accept my punishment, whatever it was. Indeed, I realized I deserved to be punished, as that was my position. I, your slave, may be punished for any wrongdoing. And it was your duty as a proud Master to ensure such punishment is delivered swiftly and justly.

True, we had discussed slavery before and indeed we have ‘played’ Master and slave, but I always calmed my fears and, perhaps my yearning, by reminding myself that this is just ‘play’. You had assured me that you could never hurt me, and I believed your words, trusted you.

My eyes beseeched you to show me mercy, but you had made your decision. You looked down at me, chained at your feet and spoke one word, "Obeisance!"

All of these thoughts played on my mind, as I lay in my dark room, alert to the silence around me, my body screaming for your touch... your firm hand. Yes, your revelation shocked me, but it was the ensuing dream that had me scared so. In fact, it terrified me.

For a moment I remained still, unsure of how I should respond. The modern woman in me, not sure how one might act under such a command. You quickly remedied my delay. You reached down and took my long hair in your hand. Pulling me forward, you forced me down until my forehead met the hard stone surface. You turned my head to the left and placed your sandal upon it.

And yet, I was aroused, more so than I had ever been before. My nipples were hard and pained under the weight of the blanket. I moved the sheets down to relieve them of their agony.

It pained me to be positioned as such. My legs were still spread widely and my buttocks were high in the air. The pressure of your foot upon my head was light, but sufficient to make me aware, fully aware, of your dominance over me. My back was painfully arched and the movement of my breath caused my hardened nipples to brush against the stones. I tried to regain my composure, accept my position. I was yours and you had commanded me thus.

The movement upon my breasts sent waves of excited energy through my body. I followed the trail with my fingers, tracing between my breasts and across my quivering flesh. My fingers made small circles on my naked body as it moved through the sweat that had collected there.

I saw your other foot nearby. I moved my head slightly, stones scraping at my cheeks, and tried to kiss it. How humiliating, I was thus bound that I could not even kiss your feet. I wanted the gag removed so I could bathe your flesh, dusty from our journey to this place.

I smoothed my hand over my flat stomach, feeling my muscles ripple beneath my touch.

You removed your foot from my head and I motioned to rise, back to my original kneeling position. You quickly replaced your foot.

"Do you not wish to please me by staying where I commanded you to stay?" you asked. I could now hear the anger in your voice.

O, the energy again... coursing through me... wanting, no, demanding, my attention. I smiled at the thought of my body commanding me, just as I think you might command me too. Well Master, I obeyed your wishes, except they weren’t really yours, were they. No, of course not, they were my wishes. But they couldn’t be mine... I would never think such things.

I shook my head as best I could. I wanted to scream out, "No, Sir, I want to please you Master!" but I had no voice. Instead, I stayed still, in the position you deemed appropriate for me.

I moved my hand lower, cupping my sex. I could feel the course, curly hairs tickling my palm. A slight giggle escaped my lips and resonated in the stillness. I suddenly realized how quiet it was in my room. My every movement echoed inside these walls. I was alone... and very aroused. No one would come in to discover me.

You again removed your foot. I did not move. I could hear the rustle of your clothing as you rose from your chair. Yes, I could see both of your feet now. You were moving away from me!

I ran my fingers through the hairs. I know you prefer me without, and I smiled when I thought that that was something you would surely rectify. I knew at that point that I was yours, and if you wanted a smooth sex at your service, that is how it shall be.

"No, Master, please don’t go!" I screamed silently behind the gag. My words went nowhere; heard by no one.

The course hairs were moist against my fingers. Yes, I was aroused.

My eyes swelled with tears. Could this be my punishment? Could it be my fate to be left in this cave, alone, until you returned? Was I being left in the nest of some animal? Were you leaving me to die?

How could such a dream cause such a state of arousal?

The tears were streaming down my cheeks. Undoubtedly leaving streaks in the dust. My cries caught in my chest.

From the corner of my eye, I saw movement. It startled me and I moved to get away, but the chains held me in position. You had shortened my leash, not allowing me to rise. Did you not trust me to stay as ordered? Of course you didn’t. And why would you? I lowered my head to the ground and closed my eyes. You had deemed this appropriate, and so it shall be.

I heard movement behind me. It sounded familiar and yet I was still frightened.

I slipped my finger along the crest of my lips, tracing them, feeling the wetness my dream had inspired. I was so wet and hot. My fingers gently parted my lips and I quickly found my clitoris. I touched upon it gently. Fresh waves of excitement consumed me.

I then felt your hands on my legs. My heart sang with joy, for you had not left me. I moved my legs apart as you wished. I felt exposed. My position was such that you could see all of my treasures. My legs were apart, bent at the waist with my head lowered in submission to you, pressed to the ground. I suppose I would have been a delicious sight, had I believed myself pretty. But all vanity had been stripped from me, it was a luxury I was not allowed. I waited to find out what my punishment was to be.

I could feel my temperature rising as my mind and fingers worked their magic.

Your hands moved along my inner thighs. How could such a touch be considered punishment? They were so gentle. So Loving. Your hands moved upwards to my sex. You skilfully separated my lips and slipped your finger inside. I was wet and ready for you. I was to always be ready for you, that is my position in life.

I touched my clitoris again, this time with more pressure, moving my finger in small circles. I felt an all-consuming wave of desire come over me. I slid my finger between my lips again, deeply penetrating me. I thought of you, imagined you touching me in such a manner. I moved my finger deeper still and placed my thumb over my clitoris. Ah yes, the thought of you touching me, invading me with your fingers. Soon I could hear someone moaning, the sounds so primitive in nature. Surely that couldn’t be me, could it?

I rolled over in my bed and reached into the drawer. Hidden there, below all my silken negligees was my favourite toy. I lifted the vibrator before my face. If I was going to sound like an animal, I was going to fuck like one.

You kneeled down behind me and kissed each of my buttocks, nibbling at them. Then, with equal skill, you guided your hard organ into me, the finger having been removed.

I kissed the phallus, running my tongue over its length. Feeling it fill my mouth as I pushed it back against my throat. I slowly drew back on it and kissed it again.

I dropped a few drops of lubricant on its tip. I touched the droplets and smeared them over the head, just as I would do to the droplets of pre-cum that gather at the tip of your cock.

I then thrust it into me... forcefully, deep. No mercy was to be shown me. I was a lowly heathen, an object of desire, little more than a common slut.

I could feel it deep inside me now, o, yes, I could feel you inside me too. It was one and the same to me.

You took hold of my hips and steadied yourself as you moved with in me.

The vibrator moved in and out of me, exciting my every nerve. Causing shivers through out my entire body.

Your pace built up in tempo and the pressure with which you held me increased. Your fingers bit into my flesh, your nails digging into my skin.

I smiled.

I bit down on the leather in my mouth as you slapped my thighs with yours, your body hitting mine with such force you were grinding me knees and forehead into the ground.

I then did something unexpected, especially for me. It was as though my thoughts had been taken under someone else’s control. I picked up the lubricant again and let the slick liquid drip onto my ass. I shivered as the cold moisture ran down between my cheeks. I found myself running my finger through slick liquid, making my sex wet again.

Your fingers moved across my buttocks, massaging them. You had poured a slick ointment upon me and you now worked the oily substance over my skin. I could feel the myrrhic scent tingling in my nostrils as it cut through the mustiness of the cave. It filled me with a sense of urgency, energizing my every pore, from the inside out.

I moved my bottom is response to your touch, raising it to you. Your fingers felt strong on me; firmly pressing into my flesh as you worked the oils into my skin. The urgency within me heightened as the spices began to take their hold. My yearning grew as if it was an itch that could not be scratched.

You slid the fragrant, rich oil down between my cheeks and circled my anus, the spice causing a burning desire within me. Soon I was longing for relief, for fulfillment.

I gently traced the track of the lubricant between my buttocks until my finger rested on my anus, my virgin anus. The thought of you taking me at your will overcame me. I pressed gently there, pushing the lubricant into me. I felt the tightness of my ass against my finger and pushed it in deeper. O, yes, you would do this to me, wouldn’t you?

You sensed my desire, perhaps had planned this from the beginning. I whimpered behind my gag as you whispered to me.

"No relief for you, my pretty. You are here for my enjoyment, and my enjoyment only."

I cried fresh tears as I felt you opening me with your thumb, moving the spicy substance deep within me. The tender skin inside my opening was screaming as the myrrh touch upon it, but instead of heeding my desire, you removed your thumb.

I heard your laugh resonate in the darkness as I squirmed under the intoxicating effects of the oil. My flesh crawling with the need to be filled, to be sated.

My finger moved deeper into me. I pressed down, feeling the vibrations that filled my sex so well. Its waves of electricity moving freely through the thin layers of skin that separate my orifices. It was then that I decided to prepare myself for you. I had little doubt that you would be pleased with my readiness, my willingness to allow you to explore my every treasure.

I slowly slid the phallus from my vagina and ran it between my legs. I slapped my buttocks with it, just as I imagined you might spank me with your engorged organ.

Your finger had left a void in me that needed to be filled. And you did fill me, although not with your organ; not while the effects of the spices so rich. I felt the hard smooth, leather surface of your whip’s handle slide easily into me. It too had been well lubricated. You held it there, deep within me for a moment before wrapping the tail around my waist. You had secured it in me, further incensing me to the effects of the myrrhic spices. My itch would not be scratched in this manner, just as you desired. Not with the whip fastened in such a manner. The movement within me was very limited, only brief strokes as your body touched upon the exposed end protruding from me.

Sliding my finger from my behind, I touched the tool to my opening. I gently pressed it into me... splitting me apart. It slid in quite easily, but not without a fair measure of pain. I am sure this too would have pleased you. I held the still phallus in me for a moment, trying to become accustomed to its size.

You unclipped my leash and pulled me up against you by my hair. You cupped my sore breasts with your hand as you continued to move your organ within my sex, your strokes deliberately forceful, and your fingers biting into me, once again.

"I am your master. You are to always obey me, immediately and without thought or deliberation. Do you understand?"

"Only I can command my actions. I am the Master of my own destiny," I said aloud, the sounds echoing off the walls of my darkened bedroom. But even as I heard the words, I wasn’t sure I believed them anymore. My dream had told me otherwise. But a dream is just a dream, right?

I nodded my head, my cheek brushing against yours. Tears still spilled from my eyes, but more from humiliation than pain. You touched my cheek with your tongue, tasting the salt of my tears.

I began to move the tool within me. Drawing it forth slowly, then pushing it deep again. I thought of how you would be when you took my hidden bounty. Would you touch me this way? Would you take me gently?

I heard your breath catch in your chest. The room was filled with sound as your sated moans reached a crescendo. The walls repeated your cry, echoes blending in my mind, becoming one with my silent screams. Mine spoke of pain, yours, of pleasure. Your lips moved against my wet cheek, kissing me gently, tenderly as you pulled your spent organ from me.

You moved away from me and pulled me gently back onto my heels. I sat back in my customary position, the position all pleasure slaves must take when in the sight of a master.

I heard you getting to your feet and, indeed, saw you move before me. It was over. I had never had a man take me in anger before, but I had survived. I looked up at you; your face looked cold as you pulled your gloves over your hands, pressing them tightly into place.

I reached down and touched upon my swollen clitoris; I instantly felt the shivers engulf me. I rested my head on my pillow and continued teasing it, feeling myself tremble.

I moved the phallus quicker now.

"Obeisance."

I immediately went down, with my forehead on the ground, just as I had been taught.

You unfastened the whip and slowly drew it from my ass. The movement rekindled my desire, reminding me that my itch had yet to be scratched.

Suddenly pain was ripping through me.

I grimaced from the pain the vibrator was delivering, as I plunged it into my tightness with reckless abandon. The vibrations sending shivers through my body. This was coupled with the feeling of my finger dancing on my clit.

I heard the whistle of the whip cutting the silence, but it had registered in my mind too late. O, what a silly fool I had been to think that your current pleasure could erase my past incompetence.

I bit down on the gag and braced myself for the next blow.

It was then that I found my release. My cries resounded in the empty room.

It didn’t take long for the next lash to meet my flesh. I arched my back against the searing pain. I cried out against the gag.

My body urged me to get up and run, but fear held me still. What would you bestow upon me if I attempted to flee? My body shuddered at the thought as the whip delivered another blow.

My body shook as I felt my muscle spasms, my legs overcome by tremors.

This time your whip caught me high across my thighs, near my aching sex. The juices you had deposited within me ran into the welt, causing additional sensations of pain. I bit down on the gag, grateful that it prevented me from biting down on my lips.

I felt my whole body tense and release. I arched my back, pressing my breasts into the mattress. The heat that started deep within my belly was now spilling onto my hand. I slipped one finger into my hot, wet sex.

You had covered my thighs, buttocks and back with fresh welts. My skin screamed out in pain. The cool air bit into the abrasions, stinging me as if it were salt.

You ran the whip up between my legs, teasing my sex, parting my lips with the tail. I could take no more.

I collapsed at your feet, sobbing. Yes, you are a strong Master. You will conquer my will, break my spirit. You will own my soul.

I collapsed on my bed, exhausted. I removed the phallus and closed my eyes. I could still feel the tremors deep within me. I could smell the excitement in my room; my skin, moist with perspiration.

My breath was short in my chest. My breasts still heaved as I sought to regain control of my body.

You returned to your seat and looked down at me. I was no longer gagged, but dared not speak. You had also released my hands. I looked up at you through my tears and realizing I was not in the proper position I struggled against the pain to kneel back on my heels. I lowered my forehead to the ground before you. I brought my lips to your feet and kissed them. My tongue ran over your skin, cleansing it of the dust. When each foot had been bathed I sat up, back straight, my breasts protruding and my belly flat. I raised my head high to show my pride in being your slave, but I dared not raise my eyes to yours. And there I sat, like a pet, begging for attention and affection.

I rolled over on my side and traced my fingers across my body again. My every nerve had been awakened and responded to my touch.

"Tell me what you are," you said.

"I am your slave, your pleasure slave, your sex slave. I exist only to please you and will do so at any cost to myself. I wear your collar and brand with pride, for you are a great Master. If I could choose a Master, I would choose no other. I am an obedient slave, fulfilling your commands and desires."

"Good, now come up on my lap and tell me what it is you would like."

I placed my hands on my breasts and felt them rise and fall.

I scrambled on my hands and knees across the short expanse to your chair. Climbing up into your lap, I rested my head on your shoulder. This was indeed a pleasure, a great honour to sit on your Masters lap. I kissed your neck, allowing my tongue to linger. Your skin was a delight to my senses, salty from your sweat, filling me with the scent of musk, masculinity. I kissed your ear and answered you. My voice came to me, my breath steady, the words sure.

"I want to please you."

My breath was steady now, my chest returning to its natural rhythm.

"I want you to own me," I cried out in the darkness of my room, the final tremors of ecstasy subsiding. "I want to be your slave."

I rolled back on my pillow and closed my eyes. I was tired, my body sated, but my mind turned over in endless turmoil. With every attempt at sleep came another opportunity for my destiny to play out in my mind. What have you done to me? Am I to be your slave?

I am your slave. My heart and body belong to you. These thoughts, although foreign to me, rang true to my heart and soul.

My thoughts were then interrupted by the alarm clock’s cry. Morning had broken and so had my will.

Fini!


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