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?

Valentine’s Day 31

My loves sit at the dining room table talking in low tones and dipping chocolate chip cookies in milk. Tara giggles and loses half her cookie to the glass. Soaked through it breaks. She uses a dry one to fetch the pieces out. Sara brushes a strand of purple hair from Tara’s eyes, tucking it behind her ear. I finish putting the dishes in the washer and start to clean the counter. Making work for myself to allow Sara to work her magic.

After a few minutes the cookies are gone, wife and lover are lounging content as cats, and the dishwasher chugs away.

“My love.” I say, “Let’s get ready for bed. You two can use the shower first.”

Sara looks knowingly at me. Her wise grey eyes carrying a sad smile. She holds her hand out to Tara, who grips her and bounces up out of the chair.

My girls disappear into the bedroom and moments later I hear the shower turn on.

I pad over to the bedroom. Snagging the remote to the house sound system, I put on the soft sounds of summer rain. The hiss and patter fills the room displacing the empty silence.

I remove the sheets and change them for a fresh set. Soft silk replaced with warm cotton.

I retrieve Mr. Fox from Tara’s side of the bed and position the bear to be watching and waiting when the girls emerge.

The girls emerge from the shower in a billow of steam and seeing Mr. Fox, Tara snatches him up and spins around with him in her arms.

Sara smiles, tired eyes lighting with soft joy, for a moment the missteps of the night forgotten.

I can’t see this anymore. Maybe that makes me weak but I can’t take credit for joy when I’ve brought us so close to disaster. I walk into the washroom and start the shower. I carefully peel off the bandage covering my dick and see the blood spots.
This is going to suck. I lather up and gently wash all over. I take extra gentle care of my wounds. This sidelines me from many of our daily routines. My mistakes compound and pay dividends I would have preferred were less.

Sluicing down the suds, I stand for a minute in the pounding streams. I let the jets massage away some of the tension and the air grows thick and hot.
Unable to take more, I step out. The shower jets shutting down ten seconds after no bodies are sensed in the stall. I throw on my robe and stand at the mirror. I force myself to take five deep breathes, holding each for three seconds before I floss and brush my teeth. I reapply a bandage on my cock and pull on underwear to keep it from brushing against anything in its raw state.

I walk into the bedroom and the air is chilly compared to the stifling heat of the bathroom. Tara is curled up against Sara. Already asleep. Sara is in the middle of the bed and I slip in behind her.

Soft moonlight filters through the gauze curtains. The sounds of rain pours through the speakers. The fresh scent of clean hair fills my nostrils. The heat of Sara as little spoon warms me and on any other night, I’d slip deeply into dreams.

But tonight, I fear sleep will be a long time coming.

Valentine’s Day 30

After 2 hours of holding and talking Tara is calm enough for Sara to dress her. I pull on slacks and a plain black t-shirt. Sara guides Tara out of our bedroom, guiding her with a hand on her back. Tara normally looks regal and she just looks sad. Her eyes downcast like she’s done something wrong. Breaking my heart. How deeply I failed her. But I don’t get the luxury of showing her my own weakness. Not yet.

Sara meets my eyes and shakes her head. Telling me that Tara hasn’t told her what happened. I sit Tara next to my wife and take the chair opposite them. I don’t want Tara to feel trapped or pressure.

Tara sits with her hands on her lap, eyes downcast. Her soft peach dress demure and innocent.

“Tara,” I say, pitching my voice soft, “I apologize for leaving you alone. It was wrong and I will try to never let it happen again.”

Tara looks up at me, shock on her face. Tears spring to her eyes and she rocks as if slapped.

She shakes her head and softly, almost inaudible, whispers, “No. It was my fault. I should have been good. I’ll do better.”

I can feel my heart shattering and the tears spring to my eyes blurring my vision.
“Honey, no. You’ve done nothing wrong. You got scared and hid. I’m sure Fineous fox was a good companion and kept you safe…Can you tell us why you hid,” I ask fighting to keep the sob from my voice.

Tara looks over at Sara who nods ok and Tara takes a deep breath. She looks me in the eye and say “I… I saw you hurting Sara. I saw….. And then I saw my friend Rachel. And I saw Him. He was hurting her and he said that he would keep hurting her unless I was good and come over to him. But,” her sobs punctuating each few words, “I couldn’t because I was scared. He’d cut me earlier and if I came to him I knew he’d cut me again and I couldn’t make myself move and he kept hurting her and she was crying and I couldn’t be a good girl and he hurt her and she was bleeding and he dragged me and locked me in the punishment room. And I heard him drag her to the back and a car door slam and I never saw her.”

Tara is crying in jagged gasps and Sara is holding her. I meet Sara’s gaze and shake my head. Rachel didn’t turn up in our sweep. From what I’m hearing, she’s dead. And this makes me think that there must have been others. There’s no way that douchebag got rid of the body so thoroughly. He was a trust fund idiot. Not a contractor. So he had help. I’ll send Jen, my head of security, a note asking her to do a deep dive into this.

“Honey, I’m sorry. Sara is here and mostly unhurt. I’m sorry I didn’t sit you down and go through that scene. I know we didn’t discuss it and I got carried away. This is entirely my fault for not finding out what might trigger you. I won’t ask you to forgive me. I will do better for us all.”

Tara looks up from Sara. She says, “I don’t want to play.”

Those 5 words tell me that she’s not completely lost. She’s asserting her desires and that eases a tiny bit of the tension.

“Of course,” I reply, “It’s your day. What would you like to do?”

She looks up and says “I want to watch Fantastic Mr. Fox, then Zootopia.”

“Of course, I’ll just put it on and start some dinner. Ok?”

She smiles, still clinging to Sara, tears streaming down her face, “OK.”

Valentine’s day 28

The hardwood floor gives slightly as I pad, nude, to the doorway. Sara lingers behind, packing up the first aid kit. My eyes scan the kitchen and living room looking for our pet, Tara. She was so deep in the pet persona she could be anywhere, getting into anything. My grin, at the thought of our girl, fills my face like a cheshire cat.

I spot movement behind the giant red fox we got Tara to mark our one month anniversary. Then I hear it and my breathe catches. My heart shudders to a near stall and my whole body goes still.

Quiet sobs echo off the brick walls.
No…
She must have seen us.
My heart fills with pain and regret. I rush over to her pen, practically running the twenty five feet. She’s crying. Her tears break me. Each one a testament to how badly I’ve failed her. But that doesn’t matter now. My problem, my pain doesn’t matter now.

I open the latch and she looks right at me, her face a mask of fear. She scoots back away and I feel like I’m going to throw up. I can’t stand this wild fear. The face of someone who is lost in the world.

I get on my hands and knees and and crawl to her. The sounds of her whimpers, so like ambrosia earlier are as ashes on my tongue. I’d do anything to take that fear from her. But, you can only kill a man once. Mores the pity.

I gather her in my arms. Holding her to my heartbeat and murmur, “come back to us, little one.” Tears spill down my face, trickle past my chin and down my neck. I’m lost to this moment. In misery. I’m a failure. I can only hold her and hope she forgives me.

Sara pulls up next to me. I didn’t hear her. She nestles against Tara. Comforting her with her presence. Her fingers intertwine with mine. I take hold of myself. Stop the tears and just hold Tara. Our love.

“We’ll fix this. Make this right,” I whisper.
“Tara, love of our life, this is a broken world. But you are not broken.”

Valentine’s Day 26-Tara(possible trigger) 

I can hear Pel and sexy Sara in the next room. They are trying to be quiet, so I am quiet to. A fox is a sly creature. I slink low to the ground. The brush of my tail sending pleasure through me. Tightness inside filling me. I peek around the open doorway, watching as my Master looks entranced by Sara. He watches her pale skin move and flex. The peach of her presented to me. I know it tastes so good. I love peaches and this one is particularly delicious but I’m afraid. Master said to play in the other room. But I want to watch. If he catches me, he will beat me. And I will moan and cry and beg…for him to take me. For her to devour me. I am just a little fox and they are tigers who will eat me all up. I feel myself clench. Tightening and pushing for release.

But I like to scream when I cum and if I scream they will hear me. And I want to watch.

She’s licking up my excitement juices. And I half moan then go still waiting to see if they heard me. She could lick it straight from me. It would be so much easier. I shudder and clench the orgasm building wave on wave as I watch my two people play.

He’s hurting her and I whimper. I don’t want to be hurt just because. A part of me starts chanting ‘I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good’. Over and over.

I close my eyes and push against the memory of my old master hurting me. I was good and he still hurt me. I begged him and he hurt me. I cried our safe word and he hurt me.

I crawl away from the doorway. Into my pen. I curl myself tightly in a ball and feel the tears coursing down my throat and the soft sounds pulling from my throat. I hug the huge stuffed animal fox to my chest and try to hide.

I don’t know how long it’s been. I feel a shadow over me and I see my old master and I cringe back. But then I hear the soft honey voice of Pel, “Tara, come back to us. You’re home. You’re safe.”

I burst out sobbing and I hear the pen door open.
Pel pulls me into his lap and strokes my hair.

He starts humming a little song and then sings, “Tara, my little fox, she’s safe, from all harm.
She lives, with a wolf, who’ll eat the bad men.”

He sings the little song over and over and I feel soft hands hold me and a warm body press against me.
Sara whispers in my ear, “Our little fox. We will protect you. The bad man is gone. You are safe.”

Valentine’s day 24-Sara

Movement hints through the gauzy curtains. Sometimes the fans swirl and I can see Pel moving in the back yard. The silver in his hair glinting in the afternoon light. My back is starting to ache and my thighs are starting to burn. Not unpleasant really but right on the edge of being too much. I close my eyes and give over to the pain. The quiet isolation and the sure knowledge that Pel will be back and he will have ideas and desires. It’s been a tough day for my Pel. He doesn’t adapt as well as he wants people to think. He just has multiple contingencies and so it seems like improvisation. The burn works its way to my back and I can feel the hint of a possible cramp wanting to form.

The patio door opens. The sound of flesh padding on tile, along with the steady beat of dress shoes, heralds the return of my pet and my Pel. I open my eyes to see the blue eyes of Tara looking into mine. She rubs her side against me then licks my left nipple sending shivers deep. She prances away, deep in her pet persona. She is a wanton thing when she is this far into subspace but Pel still holds her leash.

Pel’s voice, soft like sweet honey, rolls out, “Go play Tara.”

Tara perks up and heads to her toy chest. Her mouth closes over the large latch and pushes the lid open. She stands over the chest selecting her toy while the fox tail waves seductively and soft patters mark the path of her arousal. She comes up with a ball gag that has drool holes in it. It is pink with a soft black leather strap and silver colored buckle. Proud as a show pony she takes her selection back to Pel.

Pel let’s the ball gag drop into his hand. He reaches into Tara’s panting mouth and runs his fingers around her gums and cheeks. Pushing his fingers into her warm wet mouth.

“Open your mouth, Tara,” Pel purrs.

Tara goes still and holds her mouth open to receive her gift. Pel settles the ball against her tongue and pulls the strap tight, running the leather softly against the buckle. Tight but loose enough to cut it off.

I watch as he reaches between Tara’s legs. Rubbing his hand against the source of her honey. She stretches back into his touch. It feels like he’s there for minutes but it must only be seconds. He pats her with his other hand and say, “Off you go.”

Tara trots off into the living room and it sounds like she is climbing into her pen.

Pel turns to me, his hand slick with the juices of our pet.

“Open your mouth.” His soft command shivering through me.

Calves, ass, back burning from holding first position so long I, nevertheless, comply opening my mouth.

Pel runs his slick hand over my tongue. The musk and spice of our Tara bursting on my tastebuds.

“Clean my hand,” Pels voice rolls out from his position above me. So close I can feel the remnant heat from his sun kissed pants.

I press my lips down, hold his fingers and his hand in my mouth, fighting for breath through my nose. I run my tongue against his fingers, between, seeking every last drop of Tara. Each finger pressed, tasting him and her. Feeling the jumping veins of his heart beat. When last drops yield to swallow, I find myself almost unconscious from lack of oxygen.

Pel watches the rising panic in my eyes. Waiting for me to make him stop. No. I’d rather pass out than fail. But I’m rigid with panic now.

Pel pops his hand out of my mouth and runs it down my back. Coating me in quickly drying saliva.

“Now that you know the taste, clean up the rest of Tara’s mess. Be sure to lick it all up,” Pel orders. He crosses to the bed and sits on the firm edge.

Finally allowed to move, I crawl slowly, rolling each muscle so as to stretch. I find myself unsteady. My arms shaking from what Pel almost did. A few more seconds and I would have been unconscious. I inhale great lung full of air and crawl to the first puddle.

Valentine’s day 23

The soft leather is held in my two hands, held so as to take up the slack. The soft sound of flesh and bone moving over hard wood accompanies our walk. The patio doors open onto a concrete path colored as brick and molded in the likeness. This leads to a small table and awning where we take leasurely breakfasts or hold high protocol tea in the winter months. But our path takes us right, over the beaten dirt path leading to a small area fenced with decorative knee high lattice. Here is a soft well maintained grass lawn. Strewn about are large toys. A beach ball, a small water bowl, a bone and chewed on teddy bear. These are arranged carelessly and carefully. Staging the scene for my girl-fox.

I reach down and unclip the leash. I run my hand down and scritch her head. She looks up at me with eager happy eyes. Completely lost in the float. In being my good fox girl. I feel myself tighten and suppress a shudder of partial orgasm. Seeing her in total eager submission, completely free and joyous…I wouldn’t trade it for all the gold in the sea.

“Go play, my fox.” I smile the order.

She looks back at me once and prances away to her water dish. She leans her delicate face to the calm reflection and laps up the cool water.

I look back and see, just barely, the head of my Sara. Positioned so that she can can catch glimpses of movement through the half closed curtains of the bedroom window. Just enough to tease at things happening beyond her knowing. I know that her hips will just be starting to burn. I know because one of our exercises is for her to hold that position and, as the minutes pass, describe to me every physical sensation she is experiencing. It allows me to gauge timing for these activities and allows her to completely occupy her body on a immediate intimate level. People mostly ignore the millions of sensations they are experiencing, but it’s in the simple shifts that we can truly feel.

My fox girl, lithe nakedness and swaying fox tail is worrying her bear. It’s arm held in her mouth, she shakes her head and paws at it. She looks to back to me, her master, and I beam at her. She turns back to her bear. I watch as she rolls on her back, rubbing her back against the grass to reach a itch. Her tits jiggling and taught against her, nipples erect. The flashes of soft blonde bush through her legs. The tightness of her stomach and ass as she unconsciously maintains the tension to hold her tail in place. She’s magnificent and I’m so grateful for her.