It’s dark in her dream.
Dark is good; dark is liberating. She can be herself in the dark, because the real world can’t intrude. She can give in to the sensations…
She can submit.
In her dream, she embraces it: four senses enhanced to an exquisite, sharp peak.
Smell…clean linen, the salty tang of sweat and lust. Her light, floral perfume with hints of magnolia, melding with His woody scent, creating something unique to them.
Taste…she can’t define it. It tastes like wanting, like needing.
Hearing…her breath. Gasping, panting, moaning. And beyond that, His voice. Murmuring, soothing, encouraging. Persuading, praising…bringing her to the edge and holding her back. Counting. She loves the counting.
And touch. God, the touch. He starts by positioning her as He wants her. In her dream she can already feel the demanding caress of the ties at her wrists, stroking like petals, the stretch in her arms above her head. She tests the darkness and it’s absolute…just as she needs it.
As He moves her, shifts her, arranges her as His living artwork, His hands are strong and sure and warm and gentle. Dreamily, she sighs and relaxes into His touch, even as her skin tingles and her mind thrums with anticipation.
“Good girl,” He murmurs, and she needs to hear that so much.
Wrists bound together and secured to the headboard above her, eyes covered, she hears the rustle of bed linen. His hands are at her hips now, lifting, as He slips a pillow beneath her.
In her dream, His warm fingers slide from her feet and ankles, up her calves, to her thighs.
“Open for me,” He commands, barely more than a whisper, and her legs part obediently.
“Good girl.”
She moans, and shifts her hips restlessly, feeling her desire build. She knows she’s wet. She can feel it. Her clitoris is throbbing and her cunt is clenching and He’s barely touched her. She wants to open for him, like a flower.
“You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”
His voice is understanding but there’s a hint of tease in there. She lifts her hips pleadingly, but His hands are there, holding her.
“No. Be still for me. Wait.”
She needs this, this control. In the darkness of her head in her dream, she submits, and stills.
Agonisingly slowly, His fingers trail across from her hips, over her pelvis, down across the fronts of her thighs, and towards her labia. It takes everything she has not to shift further towards Him. He can hear it in her breath.
“Good girl. You’re doing so well. Good girls are rewarded.”
She moans, “Please…”
“Wait,” He murmurs. “I know what you need.”
His fingers trail over her the petals of her dripping labia, slipping between them. His thumb delicately brushes the very tip of her swollen, tingling clitoris, and she jerks. That one, tiny touch sends her spiralling, gasping, and it takes her a few seconds to realise He’s talking her back down.
“I know…you’re so desperate, aren’t you? Ssshhh…be still. It will be worth it, I promise. I’m going to count. I’m going to count, but only from ten. Just ten, because I know how much you need to cum. I want you to cum for me so hard…but only when I say so. Do you understand?”
His words penetrate the hazy dream-fog of desire and desperation, and she gasps.
“Yes Sir…please…”
“Good girl.”
And His fingers slide inside her. Two fingers, teasing, slipping, sliding, stretching…
“Ten…”
She tries so hard to remain still, but can’t stop herself from opening more to Him, pushing forwards onto His fingers.
“Nine…”
But now they’re sliding out again, moving to the hard bud of her clitoris, skimming in circles over it until she cries out.
“Eight…”
Parting her labia, exposing her clitoris to the cool air like a caress. Tapping the very core of her need gently as she writhes beneath His fingers.
“Seven…”
Suddenly His fingers are thrusting back inside her, hard and deep. He’s so close to the spot she knows will make her explode, and she wants so desperately to feel Him there, even as she fights to control the sensations, to please Him.
“Six…”
She can feel everything building as His fingers shift so slightly and hit the spot she needs. Moving faster, she feels a sudden surge of wetness and thrusts herself onto His fingers more, gasping and panting and begging.
“Please…please…”
“No. Wait…you need to wait,” He instructs, slowing his fingers. He moves them more gently now, keeping her enthralled with His touch, but bringing her down gently until her breathing slows again.
She can feel her desperation receding just slightly, a wave lapping at the shore before slowly withdrawing, only to return again stronger and more surely on the incoming tide, a flower needing to surge towards the sun.
“Five…” He breathes, still soothing and stroking, holding her desire at a simmering just short of overflowing. She controls her breathing, moaning on every exhale.
“Four…”
And He finally moves up to kiss her, his tongue slipping between her parted lips in time with His fingers in her dripping, soaked, needy cunt. She arches her neck and lifts her lips to His, kissing him back passionately even as she accepts His total control over her body and her desire.
“Three…”
His other hand at her throat now, just enough that she feels the pressure and sinks down into the pillows submissively. But now His fingers are moving faster inside her, and she’s so wet, so close to the edge…
“Two… you are such a good girl. Look at you, so aroused and so close…waiting for me. Waiting for me to say you can cum. Letting me control your pleasure because I know what you need…I know your body so well…”
She’s trembling now, every inhale a gasp, every exhale a moan… clenching her hands uselessly in the silk ties, clenching her cunt around His rapidly pistoning fingers. In her mind she sees a flower, a magnolia, pink and purple, budding and opening, its petals reaching and yearning.
“Please Sir, please…please…”
“What do you want? Tell me,” He asks, so gently, in spite of His unrelenting fingers.
“Please…let me cum for you,” she begs, mindlessly, frantically, twisting and writhing in her need.
“One…”
She can’t hold out any longer, her hips jumping and thrusting against Him. Feeling that pressure building and building until he says…
“Cum for me. Cum hard for me, now.”
Spiralling and falling, her mind and her cunt explode. Gushing and squirting over His fingers, His hand, His wrist, she jerks and spasms and shakes. Her head is full of fireworks and flower petals, an endless wave of sensation and pleasure that takes her out of the dream-darkness she craves, and into His warmth and light where she knows she truly belongs.
As she falls, He cradles her gently, and slips her hands from their silk bindings, and the cover from her eyes.
“Good Morning.”
