Pel

Nightmares are also dreams-Part 41

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Bruised, bloodied, and satiated, we settled into our soft but firm bed. For the first time, I’d allowed myself to be goaded by my wife into losing control. To experience the almost fugue state of the total abandonment of control and just did whatever I desired without construct, form, or limits.

I can remember it all but it’s at a remove. Except for brief instances where I felt myself tipping into monstrosity. Knife poised to cut off her nipple as I rode her. The fear in her eyes flooding me with desire and making me painfully hard. I know I stopped after pressing the dull side of the blade in, as if to beginning sawing. I can see the relief flood her body and I remember slapping her tit so hard it left a red hand shaped print against her bone white skin.

I remember the feel of holding onto the dangling ceiling spreader bar while Seth impaled me on his throbbing cock. Filling me up with the war of pain and pleasure. Legs hugging him to push deeper into me. Kissing his mouth like I was searching for a way to feel more. Biting his lip and tasting blood and that flash of regret that I had sent the others away. Wanting more inside me. Seeing Sara approach wearing a small strapon. Her reading that burning desire to lose myself. The thrusting pulse of a slick and thrumming dildo, joining Seth. The feeling of hot wet splashing inside me. The vibration too much for him to endure. The brief moment of respite before some monstrous cock, easily triple what I’d just taken started thrusting in. Turning, I see one of the men I’d dismissed, Jake, and the triumphant smirk of Sara. Jake opened me up. His cock slamming into me while he held me up from behind.
My last coherent memory is Seth sucking my cock slowly into his mouth. Like my dick was water and he was savoring every touch of it.

I remember whipping Sara with her favorite single tail. Each lash showing an angry red line across her ghostly skin. Pulling her off the Saint Andrews cross and giving her to Seth and Jake. I watched her body racked in pain be whipsawed into pleasure at the hands of those men. Her eyes staring into me, mouth open. Deep into subspace. They took her. She laying sideways on the padded bar. Front and back, thrusting her between them. I recall pushing my cock into her open mouth. The feel of her mouth sealing around me and the slow sucking as she pulled one last hard cum from my aching over used cock. Tensing each time she spasmed in orgasm. One hand holding her head in place and the other cupping her bruised breast. Pushing and kneading on the bruises.

I know we took a shower but can’t remember it. I pull Sara’s battered body closer to me. These recollections making me hard. But I’m too tired to do anything. Nevertheless, I push into the pleasant familiar warm of her pussy. Just leaving myself inside of her. With Tara pressing herself against me. Tits pushing into my back. Awkwardly, I reach back and cup her mons in my hand. She murmurs in a half asleep haze, “Thank you, Master.”

Some tension in me breaks at her words, and I drop deep into sleep. The most content person on the face of the Earth.

Nightmares are also dreams Part 34

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The photographer walked in rumpled and a bit worse for wear.

“He must have given the guards a hard time,” I murmured to Sara.

“Just as long as he’s professional, this should be fine,” replied Sara.

I watch his eyes wander the decor. Lingering over the more functional and esoteric pieces of furniture. Eyes finally centering on Sara, Tara, and I.

His breath hitches a bit when he realizes Tara is wearing only body painy but he then ignores us and sets up his gear.

This whole process is like getting a tattoo. Cool in concept, awesome when it’s finished but mostly dull with some moments of excruciating pain thrown in just to keep it interesting.

He moves us around like marionettes. Positioning us to catch the light of the fading sun. Moving Tara so that she’s between us or at our feet. Calm and efficient.

And finally he packs up and promises to have the pictures ready soon for us to look at and pick through.

Sara looks exhausted and Tara seems like she’s ready to get out of the body paint.

“Sara, if you would be so kind as to call the guard station and tell them to start phase 3, we can go and rest for a bit.”

“Tara, get your cute butt to the shower. I’ll be in shortly to wash you.”

Tara minces her way past, each step a study in sleepy seduction. She looks back over her shoulder and smiles that knowing smile. The soft flash, there and gone as she disappears around the corner.

Sara looks at me and asks, “What’s phase 3?”

“Just a private meal and some alone time. I thought we’d cater in. I presumed we’d be too tired to cook much of anything.”

Sara smiles up, eyes flashing through half lidded eyes, “But what if I’m hungry now?”

I smile, “Well, presumably, you will find something to eat that is to your liking.”

Her hands reach to my waist and the sounds of metal against leather unclasping hiss through the room.

Nightmares are also dreams Part 32-Interlude-Pel

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Watching my girls play is the best part of my day. I spend time thinking about them. Wondering why I keep working. Why I keep taking ops. Why I keep doing this thing I do?

And then I remember. I remember the faces. The smiles. The jokes. The sorrow filled faces looking back at me, knowing that there isn’t anything left to do but die. My people.

I can lie to myself and pass them off as employees. As people who made choices. But at the end of the day, I’m the one responsible. I took the contract. I sent them into harms way. And I’m the reason they died.

People will say it’s the person who planted the bomb, pulled the trigger, or plunged the blade. And they’re right. They’re right. But it’s not a zero sum equation. And my choices, my intel, my signature on some piece of paper sent them careening into the path of the bullet and nothing I do makes up for that.

But what I can do is take care of their families. Take care of their legacies. And make better decisions in the future. But I can’t do that without money. And I can’t do that without resources. And really, this is the only life I know. So I take my joys where I can.

Take my girls and give them the chance at safety and joy and love. All while I know, my men and women are executing orders and placing themselves one step closer to that final sleep.

Sometimes the responsibility hits you out of nowhere. The crushing weight, briefly unbearable
Until something lifts you up.

Tara’s impish smile and Sara’s brazen grin. And the nods of the guards. Who know what happens when I go too quiet and my gaze slips distant. And remind me, life doesn’t stop. Best get to it.

Nightmares are also dreams Part 30

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I catch Sara looking as she realizes I’ve set her up. Her shock and wounded false innocence wakes a smile in me. One of those slow smiles that grow until you’re grinning. That slowly spreads until you are looking up from the deep well of self, shining out from your eyes and your pores. As if, suddenly, you are more yourself now. As if you are more fully awake than you have ever been.

I watch her shudder. She knows. Knows that I’ve constructed this just for her. Knows that she is deep in my web of machinations. I wait for her to call yellow or red. I know I’ve pushed her. She thinks that she has dealt with her parents but I know how they treat her. Like she has failed because she married me. Like she failed because she didn’t marry into some blue blooded, cold, social climbing family. Because she works and sullies her hands by brokering deals.

I know she is afraid of them. Afraid they will reach out their political might and squash me. What she doesn’t know is that I’ve worked with all of their friends. Small, personal contracts mainly but the bottom line is that they like me better than they like her family. And I have more than enough information to cut off any back channel deal they can try to cook up.

I can get along just fine with them because I don’t give a fuck what they think. But when she is around them, she reverts back to that scared teenager who is so different from them but can’t show it. She refuses to let me handle it. But a punishment and a scene can push her boundaries. Which let’s me handle this my way. I know she thinks that we are doing some kink shoot. And we will, we most definitely will. But first we are going to take some real wedding style pictures. Something we can send out for Solstice cards. Because, if they hurt her more than I can allow, I’ll have to do something I’d rather not. And this may spur a conversation that allows us all to circumvent that.

Here comes Tara. Fully body painted as a fox. She looks lithe and perfect. She walks over and presents herself for inspection. They’ve airbrushed the appearance of fur. It even shifts and moves with her movements. I snap her collar and lead on. Watching her beam at me. I glance over at Sara. I can see the war of pride and fear in her and know that she is trapped now.

Nightmares are also Dreams Part 29-Sara

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I cannot believe that man! My mother’s dress! Like I would wear that frumpy conservative lump. And to imply that I had less than 30 minutes for hair and makeup…no absolutely not?! Just because he’s the Master doesn’t mean he gets to dictate how I look. We did not negotiate this and I am not going to let him get away with this…this…punishment. I encouraged our pet to play and she is super happy now and he punishes me! No, absolutely not. If he tries anything else, I’m calling red and stopping this trainwreck.

Pictures for my parents. They know that I’m married. They don’t know the specifics of our relationship and they don’t need to know! Their arch-conservatives rich bitches and they could start throwing their weight around. Pel thinks he can play in their world but he can’t. It’s all clandestine words of warning and bribes disguised as political contributions.

Pel’s idea of subtle coercion is blackmail and a gun. He’d get eaten alive in their world. Petty warlords and tin pot dictators have nothing on the political bureaucrats my parents buy.

Well this is going faster than I thought…

“Where do you ladies normally work,” Sara asked the makeup and hair artists.

“We work on Broadway, dear. Your beau flew us out just for you and had us sitting on standby all day at some private hotel,” the makeup artist replied.

“Flew us on a private jet, very posh, and we never went through security so fast, I don’t know how he managed that,” the hair artisan said.

That son.of.a.bitch. He was planning this the whole fucking time. Flew them across country on a whim! Bullshit. He was going to do this the entire day. He was just waiting for me to disobey or infract in any way and if I didn’t he would have set up a no win scenario.

That sneaky, conniving, beautiful bastard of a man.
I look over to see him sitting in his tux, reading on his phone and drinking a glass of pineapple juice. Not a care in the world.

He looks up like he can tell I’m looking and that slow possessive smile creeps across his face, darkens his eyes and the hunger their makes me shudder.

My Pel.

Nightmares are also dreams Part 27

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I see now that I’ve managed to push Sara into business mode. Shifting her personality a few degrees to command rather than submissive. Though, truthfully, she’s not the type to be submissive in all things. But generally on scene days she is able to let go enough to be in the moment.

I suppose the fear of being outed to her parents and oh so conservative family is enough to make her put on a different personality to combat that fear.

I gather a few ‘props’ for the photo shoot from our toy chest, depositing them into individual dark bags that are padded so that you cannot tell what is contained within. These will be used as punishments or inducements during the shoot.

I take them out to the living room which has been taken over by the team which normally handles disguises and document creation for the ‘Spire. They have Sara in a chair and are working on making the nest of her hair into something photo worthy. Once that is done they will do her makeup and we’ll almost be ready.

It is interesting that she chose the outfit she did. But perhaps she didn’t want to stray too far from the feminine. She is well aware that I would have accepted her in a suit and that would mean less makeup, generally. And less hair manipulation.

In any case, I can see the change in her demeanor if nothing else. It’s as if her makeup and hair is armor. And perhaps it is. I’ll be called upon to say perfection or beautiful but as long as she is confident and being herself she will always be pretty. And her beauty is all about her spirit and intelligence. The truth is, I will pass judgment on aesthetics alone and leave my too biased emotions out of it.

Plus, well…anyone is lovely sporting willingness and a ballgag.

We’ll have to wait and see about the willingness. But the collar, the chain, and even the ball gag. Those are not negotiable.

Nightmares are also dreams Part 26

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Sara emerges from her closet carrying a black garment bag. She is trying to look dignified while Tara dances around her. Tara slipping in and licking a shoulder or arm before being swatted away. It’s clear that Tara is loving her game of Lick the Sara but it’s time to get this show on the road.

“Tara, it’s time to get into your outfit.”

I watch the surprise and relief flood into Sara. I can almost hear her thinking that at least with clothes on she might explain her lifestyle to her parents.

“The body artist is waiting for you in your room. They will be painting you up to look just like a fox.”

Sara’s eyes whip to mine, shock and the smallest bit of a smile washes over her face, and she says, “You…hmmf.” She flounces into the bathroom to get changed.

It’s funny. I’ve seen her cow Fortune 500 CEO’s. I’ve seen her lose a large fortune of someone else’s money and gain it back in the same day. I’ve seen her shoot a full magazine and hit her target every time. She is amazing and every time I think I’ve seen it all, there is a surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her flounce before.

The alarm on my phone starts beeping. It is time for her makeup.
I knock on the door to the bathroom.

“Do you need help with anything,” I ask through the door.

“I’ve got it. Five more minutes,” she replies back.

“The alarm says now. How will you be paying for these 5 minutes?”

“How about a night of PDA(public display of affection) at the next office party,” she replies all too readily.

“That’s fine. As long as it’s your office.”
At my office we could fuck on the centerpiece and my people would just take bets on who cums first. Or take it as cue to start an orgy. When your life is regularly on the line, you generally are a bit libertine. Or, perhaps, it’s just in my recruiting methods. Maybe a bit of both.

There is a few minutes of silence and the door opens. She is wearing a black bustier with red panels. Her skirt is floor length, slit to reveal her upper thigh which is partially obscured by the holster of her very functional 10mm Glock. She looks fierce and fiery. The look only slightly marred by her bed head hair.

“You can stop ogling me. And help me lace up the bustier. I couldn’t reach the laces.”

I snap out of my surprise and lace up the back. Pulling them a little tighter than she might prefer just to remind her that she should have asked and not commanded.

As soon as I finish she strides forward, casting her voice back, “Of course my office party. Yours would just start an orgy and it takes forever to get the food out of…everything.”

Nightmares are also dreams Part 25

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Tara is padding around, fox ears on her head and fox tail sprouting from her butt plug. She is snuffling and sticking her nose into things and generally having a good time. Her small smile says that she loves the game and wants to play.

Sara is staring in unconscious horror at the elaborate off-white dress. One of those flouncy meringue wedding dresses that shops try to sell to the happy and unsuspecting. She looks at me as if I’d lost my mind. I smile back angelically. Fallen angels count, right?

“You can’t be serious,” she states. Her voice empty with shock. Ah, horrible dress therapy, why did I never think of this before?

“Do you not like it? I had it special ordered just for you. I have it on good authority that your father’s second wife wore the exact same dress.”

“His SECOND wife?! You mean the tramp he left my mother for,” her voice rising in incredulity and anger.

“It could have been his third. To be honest, I’ve lost count. I’m sure it’s in a file somewhere. Would you like me to check,” I reply calmly.

Letting out a low groan, Sara turns to me and whines, “Why are you doing this?”

I look at her for a beat. Letting the silence stretch. Then reply, “Your parents deserve to know that you are happy and married. Just like you wanted. If you are wondering why that photo will include Tara nude and being a little fox…then ask yourself this: would you ask her and me to hide who we are? Is that who you want to be be?”

She looks at me and sees the disappointment lurking, waiting for her answer.

I know that she loves us and accepts us. But to expose these kinds of things to her parents is a completely different proposition.

She knows this is a punishment. She knows that I will not harm her. But still, she’s human. And exposure of secrets is one of the hardest things we do. Especially to people whose image of us is in contrast to the truth.

She turns away, eyes cast down. Almost inaudible, I hear her say, “Ok.”

Then she whips back around to me glaring fiercely and proclaims “But I won’t be doing this in that monstrosity. I have my own clothes and I will pick something I deem appropriate.”

I smile, wryly, and say, “Well, it is your day. You have 30 minutes to find a dress and get into it. The makeup artist will be done with us by then.”

I watch the triumph fade to panic then into something like horror. What am planning flies across her face?! Then she’s off like a shot into her closet.

I turn away and go to the hall closet where my tux is kept.

Moments later I hear a shriek and a cry of “Don’t lick that!” coming from Sara’s direction. Then out pranced Tara looking impish and smug.

This is going to be fun.

Nightmares are also dreams Part 24

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Tara’s lips linger over her wife’s. Their breath mingling for the barest moments. Pushing away slowly she stands. Sauntering over like the fox that ate the hen.

I can’t help but smile when I see her confidence restored. And I seeing my approval, Tara lights up in response. She grabs Mr. Fox and sits. Rather primly for one clad only in a stuffed fox.

“Well,” I ask, “what are we to do about this breach of protocol?” I cast a glance at Tara and, as her smile fades, I shake my head. No. Not meant for you.

“Sara dear. You seem to have forgotten that today was to be a slow day of agony. And instead partook of pleasure. Now, she is a sweet succulent peach, to be sure, but that does not excuse the breach of protocol. Whatever am I to do with you?

I suppose, technically, I should punish you in some way. I had planned on hot stones, just a scoach under the temperature at which flesh burns as our next step. Not enough to do harm but enough to think that harm would be done. It’s a shame really.”

The disappointment and fear in Sara’s trembling flesh makes me smile. If only with my eyes.

I wonder if she knows what punishment I had waiting in the wings….

I go to our closet. The walk-in cedar lined walls reflecting the subdued lighting and almost making the wedding dress shine as if in a spotlight.

“Come, dear Sara. Release your bonds and stand, do. I have a present for you.”

I grab the dress by the hangar and sweep around into the bedroom proper. Sara has released the wrist restraints and is bent over working on the ankle ones.

I move to stand in front of her. Knowing that in doing so, the hem is likely to be visible from her position. But she takes her time, almost defiantly, and releases the second cuff before looking up.
Seeing the dress, she looks puzzled. In response, I pull out my cell phone and call for our detail.

“Honey, it’s been more than ten years since we were marries. I think it’s time your family knows. So we are going to take wedding photos. And send them off to your parents. I’m sure they will be ecstatic knowing that their precious jewel is so well loved.”

As I speak, I see the puzzlement fade and be replaced by outright horror. Her parents are a particular kind of monster. And I know she has never confronted them with the truth of her life and lifestyle. Nor will she be doing so now. But I’m not going to let that drop until we have our photos in hand. Let her fret a bit. We’ll talk about it in aftercare.

“And here, my dear. Don’t forget to bring our darling pet along. She’s going to be so beautiful collared and playing, nude at our feet. Aren’t you dear Tara?”

Tara smiles at us shyly and nods eagerly.

Now Sara will have to try and pretend that this is all a happy and good thing. It’ll eat her up.

My little pain slut…did you think that you would get what you wanted so easily?

Nightmares are also dreams Part 23

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Some heavens are found when we give in to our desires.

I’ve tried to make this day about control and the measured step by step of needs building until the pressure itself became an agony. It would have been a masterwork. But watching my Tara play with my Sara…the gentle torture of pleasures inflicted.

The soft kisses and gentle caress of fingertips. The sounds of bodies moving against each other and soft silk. The smell of sweat. Musk saturating the cool afternoon. Faint but detectable, for one whose smelled this heady mixture before.

I sit saddle style against the chair I brought for Tara. Arms resting on the chair back. Soft smile tugging mouth upward.

I don’t know if I’m the one who is changing or we are all growing together. I wonder if my current line of work, taking me away from cold planning and corporate maneuvering, and back into the field…if somehow with my blood lust sated, I want only gentle things.

I look up from my minds wander to see Sara looking at me, her blindfold discarded in the tumult. I see her. And know that pleasure is never enough for her. And seeing her see me, my fire wakes from dormancy. She kindles my flame as she ever has. And in our shared fire, my mind tracks to the sound of ragged gasping.

While others might take the sight of two beautiful women making love to be enough for desire…I know something so simple and without that black edge of control and pain, will never be enough. Not for me. Not for Sara.

And while Tara is made of gentler things, still, her joy on my leash…she has a place with us. Her fox to our wolves.

“Tara,” I say, “get up please. It is time for me to play.”