Nightmares are also dreams Part 13-Interlude

The soft drip of water sounds distant and hollow. The room I’m in looks to be some kind of warehouse space. I can see a drain on the floor and…what looks like hair spotted with scalp. I can feel my heart pounding like some crazed dubstep song. I know what this is. I can hear the part of me that isn’t floating in this pleasant haze of what I can only imagine to be really good shit gibbering and wailing in some small corner of my mind.

This is a kill room. Maybe a torture room or enhanced interrogation techniques, as I’ve heard the more cold blooded mercenaries we work with. I think they are going to kill me. And I know that I should care but I seem to only be able to work myself up to mildly bemused.

Oh look it’s the peach dress lady and she has some kind of cattle prod. Hullo peach dress lady!

She shoves it into my bare stomach and the prongs are cold. So amateur, everyone knows you keep them warm.

My veins pulse fire and every muscle in me contracts including my poor heart and for a brief eternity all I can do is scream. And in those seconds, I can see clearly across the room. The whole capture team has been rolled up.

The drugs recede a bit when the bitch in peach is done and she walks over to one of the blank faced sociopaths we use as muscle. Oooh right in the testicles….better them than me.

They still haven’t asked any questions. The keening in my mind gets higher and I can hear the whimpers escape. They aren’t going to ask anything…they are just going to torture us until we die.

There has to be something I can give them. Some link that will get me free. But I don’t know anything, I don’t know, I don’t know…

“Wait, please,” I scream. I swear I screamed. My throat feels raw from screaming. They had to have heard. They must. I thrash against the bonds in the chair I’m in and catch a glimpse of the redhead…that bitch the opposition use for a chief. She’s rolling some kind of cart to the one team member I know. He’s a guy I grab beers with after the job, maybe we go back to his place and fuck.
He’s slumped down and doesn’t seem to be breathing…the sound of pleading comes louder now. I wish it would shut up. I’m trying to hear what’s happening.

They used paddles and revived him. I feel cold right to the center of me. How many times have we died? How many times?

*** *** ***

Tara is looking ill, Jen thinks. It’s time to get her out of here. She wanted to see justice done but I don’t think she can handle this. I’m sending her back to Pel with a note that she may need emotional support. In any case, it’s been several hours. He has to be almost done by now.

Nightmares are also dreams – part 11 – interlude

“Team A, you are a go. Decoy b is in the net,” squawks the walkie.

The men in the van and other vehicles look like unassuming middle aged nobodies. They blend in to most crowds in the western world like water slipping into a lake. Who notices a few more white guys?

They wear a variety of sweaters and cardigans, khakis and coats. Armed with silenced pistols and stun guns, they get out of their nondescript sedans. So disparate that they are almost identical. Someone watching would describe them moving in sync. Professionals.

By different routes, they filter into the mall. Their quarry will believe that the squad has been neutralized. They still believe that this group is run by a lone group of weirdos. And, to be fair, the breakers are monsters to a man. It’s unfortunate, but a necessary part of the network.

“They are heading to the second level. Eyes up, it looks like they have outrunners.”

The men act as if they are browsing. Asking clerks for sizing options. For color options. Arriving to the designated area before the target.

If their security is pointed outward, it should afford our ambush a few vital seconds of surprise.

The underboss should never have been seen by the girl. But, he was the only available agent in place when it all started going south. This is a fuck up and normally we would have cut him away but This group… This Darkling Spire has raided a couple of our lower lever houses. If we let them, they will burn down all we have built.

“Check-in.”

“1, 2, 5, 7, 4, 8,….”

“Does anyone have eyes on 3 or 6?”

“kshhhh”

“I see 3 sitting in the food court…”, the sound of suppressed gunfire cuts the walkie off.

Fuck. “Abort, Abort, abort.”

The sound of the lock on the van breaking spins me around. The splash of peach leaves me speechless as the voice of the target says, “Pel said I was going shopping. He always gets me the nicest things.”

Nightmares are Also Dreams part 8-Tara

It’s a thin fiction that I can’t hear the snap of the belt through the bathroom door but I know Pel needs that. He is trying to keep me safe and I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m better now. I was lost in subspace and had a bad flashback. I wish he’d stop acting like I’m about to break.

The hot water pounds against my shoulders, easing tensions I didn’t know I was carrying. Soaping up and sluicing off quickly, still I stand in the heat and spray. The air grows thick and hard to breathe. And almost, it feels easier to keep going and allow the wet and heat to drown me in the air. It’s not that I want to die or that I’m not happy. It’s that sometimes the pain of remembering is so heavy. I know that I need to get out and get going. But I just can’t.

The sounds in the shower change. The pressure in the room lightens and the air cools. I hear from the doorway, “Tara? Are you ok?”
Pel’s sweet voice fills me with shame and rage and just for a split second resentment.
I turn off the water jets, feeling a sullen bleakness settle down, and step out.

He’s waiting with a big towel. Arms stretched wide to envelope me. And shame overwrites the bleakness. Seeing him, trying to take care of me. I step into his arms and he rubs me down with the towel. Hands soft and firm. Businesslike and still I feel them linger over me. Never where you’d think. On my calves, down my side, along my spine. All dry.

The wet warmth vanishes and I stumble briefly, I’d leaned too far into him. But just as quick, warm robes encircle me. His arms pull me close. I feel his heart beat, that steady thump, for me. For me.

My body leaned back against his. His mouth against my ear. He whispers, “It’s time to get ready my Tara dove. Your clothes are laid out in the guest bedroom. Please get dressed in there.”

The guest bedroom? Why there?
Am I being punished…
Despair drifts back in, unbidden, as if through an open window

“Sara is taking up the whole bed, I’m afraid and we can’t have your dress getting dirty.”

I feel like I just slumped in relief…
Maybe he’s not completely wrong. It’s hard to admit. That I’m not just ok. It’s hard but I know…He does whatever he can to make me safe which is sometimes exhausting for me. But he’s not wrong either. I’m a grown ass woman and it’s hard to be taken care of like I’m not.

“Tara,” he asks quietly.

I shake out of a reverie that I guess dragged on and say, “Ok,” as brightly as I can. I brush past Pel and see Sara is splayed out on the bed. Wrists and ankles bound to the four corners. The bed top has been replaced by a white shiny leather one. A blindfold and ball-gag covers her eyes and mouth. I briefly feel something like lust and jealousy all rolled together. But I go to the guest room and find the outfit picked out for me.

Its peach! From the lace underwear and bra all the way to the two knives I’ll conceal on me, peach.
Where did he get blades that are peach colored?

Nightmares are also dreams, part 7

I emerge from the steam of the bathroom and see Tara moving under the covers. It seems that my girls are happy and who doesn’t like that. But Tara has a appointment to keep, so much as I would like to let this continue, I’ll likely need to cut it short. However, I can give them a few minutes.

I walk around the bed, past the side table, and into the walk in closet. The gunmetal tie, the black jacket and black pants are quickly selected and placed on the dressing rack. Now for what Tara will wear…a harder choice. I want her to look fierce yet sexy, to really show her how far I think she has come. I stand looking over the choices. I’m unsure of how best to demonstrate her progress. Then it hits me, something that is in counterpoint to what Jen and the other guards will wear. I find the pale peach jacket with matching peach pinstriped pants. Both cut to fit and with plenty of pocket space. She needs the room to be able to store her blade AND have her hands free should she need to use it. For the shirt, a plain white silk, and a peach pocket square….and suspenders with little pictures of mice and bowls of milk. For shoes…I think the dyed to match suede low heeled boots. Peach is such a hard color to match but it’s Tara’s favorite. But if one piece is peach, generally all have to be.

I can hear the moans drifting in from the bedroom. It sounds like Sara is minutes away from orgasm. And that just won’t do.

I pop out of the closet and say, “Tara, dear, it’s time for your shower…Jen will be by in an hour to take you shopping and you must be ready.”

I hear a muffled response and walk to see what is happening. “Sara, release Tara… Please.”

Sara let’s go of the double handful of Tara’s locks and cranes her own head back to look at me. I can read the frustration on her face telling me that I stopped this just in time. Hell, astronauts on the ISS can probably read that expression. I just beam a smile at my very frustrated wife and waggle my fingers at her.

Tara slides off the bed and walks into the bathroom. She knows better than to step into the middle of this.

“Pel, what the fuck,” Sara asks, exasperation and frustration dripping off her tongue.

I let my face go cold and look her in eyes that have deepened to the color of a sea in storm. Her eyes telling me just how pissed she is.

I watch as the color bleeds out from storm to pale sky. She sees my normally active face go cold and still.

I walk to the bed and grab her arm, pulling her out of the illusion of safety and let her drop onto the hardwood. Stalking around her shocked body, I lean down and say, “Listen, little whore. You are mine to do with as I please. You don’t get a orgasm until I say you do.”

Sara shivers then goes still, sensing the direction Pel is taking her. Her soft reply of, “Yes, Sir,” is all but lost under the sound of the belt snapping sharp against her exposed buttocks.

It begins.

Nightmares are also dreams, part 6: Tara

The heat void left by Pel getting up rouses me from my barely remembered dream of laying next to a fire. I snuggle into his spot. Still warm from him and close to Sara. I feel the soft muscle of Sara’s arm pull me to her, sliding me across silk to nestle close enough to feel her warm breathing tickle my still closed eyelids. I feel her feather touch. Soft fingers spread like a fan, drawing circles around my breast. My eyes open, awake now, and find the deep green of shaded forest staring into mine. I’ve seen this look before, her eyes flashing so deeply with desire they are practically black.

I lean in and devour her soft lips with mine, head tilted to the left. Pressure building to take more of her into my mouth. Tongue sliding over tongue, soft and fierce, fighting for more and more until I feel her hand squeezing and pulling my tit. I break awake, gasping for air. Gobbling breath. Her hand pulses like a heartbeat. I find myself on my back gasping, not sure how I changed positions.

Her nails graze against me sending shivers down spine and her mouth closes over my throat. Lightly biting down, claiming me as hers, her kill. I shudder needing more but she moves so slowly. Lips press their need against my chest and I gasp in surprise when her teeth close over my nipple right as her hand flicks my clit.

I fade out, almost to float, but her fingers plunging inside me shakes me loose. I panic, starting to struggle against her and my eyes fly open.

From the doorway, Pel is watching us. He’s holding two mugs in his hands, not drinking from either. He seems content to watch us forever.

I relax shocked back to reality. My girlfriend and my Sir. I’m safe and that thought gets blasted out of my head. Sara is biting and nibbling and her hand pulses inside me fingers splayed and caressing inside finding spots I never knew were there.

I fall into sensation, eyes closed against any distraction. Each time I feel teeth I whimper as a thumb drags slowly against my clit.

My lungs expand and contract, rough breathe spilling into the air, my body starts shuddering, and then soft waves of gold hammer through and out of me, again and again riding the edge of orgasm.

It’s too much and I can’t think. Lost in the float…

Some minutes later I hear water turning off, when did that happen? Sara is drinking from a cup and offers one to me.

I take the proffered gift and find it contains drinking chocolate. Pel made this…there is cayenne in it. Sara prefers to mix it with cream.

It is delicious but not what I want. I put the mug down on the nightstand with a metallic click.

I burrow beneath the covers and find the prize I’m looking for. The soft blonde sweetness of Sara. It smells of musk and vanilla with a hint of Pel from last night. I play the game Pel taught me. I lick a long slow A against the pussy lips of my…wife.

I’ll say yes. The last time they asked, I wasn’t ready. But yes, they are mine. I won’t give them up. But… Later. Now I need more and the soft moans of Sara whisper our rightness.

Nightmares are also dreams, part 5

Waking before the dawn can make the nights feel shorter. But those quiet hours before sunrise always feel like a gift. Getting up and making coffee. Watching Tara snuggle into the warm spot I just vacated. Watching Sara pull Tara to her. These unconscious movements echoed in sleepy waking smiles and soft kisses.

Sara moves her hands under the cover, the arch of Tara’s back showing the results of her touch. I watch their kisses and caresses for a minute. Drinking in their lust and love for each other. It leaps my heart to see my girls happy and safe.

I softly walk to the nightstand and place a insulated mug of coffee for Sara and a twin of that mug with hot cocoa for Tara onto the night stand. I know Sara hears me but her mouth is otherwise occupied with Tara’s. I walk to the shower and close the door softly. The heat of the water slams into me. Sluicing away that gritty tightness of my skin. Feeling the heat soothe away the pains of a hard life gone soft.

I take my time. Lathering with lemon peppermint soap, the smell evoking sun and winter chill. When the heat is almost dizzying, I turn off the water. The steam curls in the eddies of the air conditioner.

Jen texts, All is ready.

So, the project Girls day out is a go. Jen will pick up Tara in 2 hours and they will go shopping. Stereotypes aside, Tara likes spending time with Jen and anytime she can be out in the world and feel safe is to be encouraged. Plus, I need some time with my wife. I never appreciated the freedom we had until it was curtailed.

I have described to Sara the utterly depraved acts of love I was going to visit upon her body today. She is completely psyched up for pain and torture.

So, of course, we’ll be going in a different direction.

I hear through the hot mist, the warbling tea kettle cry of Tara as she screams her orgasms through the bedroom. I smile dark and bright. My girls.

It should be a good day.

Nightmares are also dreams: A Pel and Sara story: Part 2: Sara

The office is warmly lit by recessed lights along the wainscoting. A mosaic of wood tiling depicting a woodland scene, the knots placed around to seem like eyes of a predator looking down, adorns the ceiling. It’s the one concession I made to Pel’s ascetic. The rest is ultra modern chic. Curved lines and bright colors. Chrome fixtures and elaborate chairs. All made to be a bit jarring to the senses. For when a client wants to complain about how their portfolio is doing and I really don’t want to talk for long. This room will make you uneasy. Not uncomfortable, the chairs and lighting is comfortable but everything else just feels subtly off. Pel calls it the paranoia room. Everyone who leaves it has a almost panicked relief when they exit. He says his security team likes to place bets on who looks the most scared. There’s not much sympathy for multimillionaire’s and their stock options.

I’m working at my 6 monitor Bloomberg Station, tracking the trend line on palladium. I hear the doggy door swing open and close. Our little fox turns about her bed three times and lays down, curled up with her little Mr. Fox we got her that she can carry in her mouth.

Our Tara is almost always a Fox at home now. She prefers it and we are indulgent. Plus Pel is wracked with guilt over her break with reality. I and her therapist have both told him that it was inevitable and that it’s lucky we had her when it happened. But all he hears is his failure as her friend, lover and Sir. Pel is amazingly serious about all of this. You should hear him talk about correct and incorrect actions and how honor must be integral to the BDSM experience. For a non-Pro, he does go on.

I have been through some terrible things. Things no one should experience, even nearly dying from one incident. Even so, what happened to Tara gives me the shivers. That monster tortured and killed friends of hers in front of her. He broke her down and built her back to what he wanted. And then set her loose, expecting her to come crawling back in some kind of sick dominance game. I know Pel killed him. But whatever he did, it wasn’t enough. And now there’s some kind of ring of these people who have been doing this for years. I can’t even. A frission of fear runs up my spine. I could have fell prey to one of them. Easily, could have went out with one. We think we’re safe and we just aren’t. Maybe Pel takes our security a bit far, with tail cars and a security station in the house but seeing this…is anything really enough?