Dreams

Viper Madness - An Elarra and Master Tilborn story. “Look out, master!” Elarra pushed Master Tilborn aside, causing the viper to miss its strike. Annoyed, it drew back and stuck again, sinking its fangs into Elarra’s ankle. Or rather above her left ankle, just where the muscles of her calf began. The viper coiled once more, rather than slithering away like a cowardly villain ought to. Elarra had only sandals and garden gloves, but Master Tilborn had a hoe. He neatly separated the viper’s head from its body, as it attempted a third strike, and that was the end of the viper. ...

story continued from Part One Chapter Three: Dream a little Dream She normally didn’t remember dreams, but being restrained and played with was not something she could easily forget. Funnily, she had never had a dreams subject repeat itself in her life, now they seemed to be a recurring theme…. ‘…. this is different’, she thought to herself, standing shaking her left leg. She was looking down at her feet and could see that the ankle cuffs were back, although this time her feet were being held almost double shoulder width apart by an adjustable metal bar. Her wrists were behind her back, testing her bonds she could tell they were attached to each other, and she was naked again. She turned her head and mentally relaxed when she saw him going through all of her toys laid out on her bed, her empty black bag on the floor by his foot. She knew she was “safe”…., maybe not the right word to use - she laughed to herself. ...

Chapter One For Sue it hadn’t been a good day. Sleep came with some difficulty. When the dream started it seemed so real…… The knocking on the door caught her by surprise. When she opened it he was standing there with a black back pack in his hand. “It’s party time! This is the night you have been waiting all your life for”. “What do you mean?' ‘You know those fantasies you have had all your life about being restrained and played with? They are about to come true.” ...

Part One I push open the heavy front door with some effort… the hinges hadn’t been oiled for a while and the door had little use for the last year. Once in the front the hall, I dropped my bags and pushed door shut, I’d finish unloading the car later. The hall was clean, with just a little dust and you could see a few patches on the walls where furniture and pictures had been. It was a large old house, on expansive grounds, well back for the road. It had been owned by the parents of my friends, Jennifer, who had passed away the year before. Jennifer was travelling overseas and I had volunteered to help with the house, making sure the few remaining items of furniture were picked up and removed and the house was clean and ready for sale. ...

Sarah had just found a new fetish website where people talked about their darkest and most extreme fantasies. Having read through some of the long and detailed dreams other people had placed on the site, she set to work writing her own deepest secrets. She would split the fantasy over two stories and would go into great detail with everything she wanted. Immobilisation: Sarah wanted to be covered in thick rubber from head to toe and extremely well bound, before being put in an inescapable carbon fibre sarcophagus which was only just big enough for her to fit in. She would be very well gagged and hooded with a medical collar and neck restraint keeping her from moving her head. A gas mask would be locked over her head. Liquid food and water tubes would enter the gas mask go up her left nostril and into her stomach. The tube would be made from hard rubber and would not bend or fold inside her. She would breath through her right nostril and she wanted just breathing to be horrible. She wanted the air she breathed in to stink and make her gag. So the gas mask would have a long rubber tube going out from the sarcophagus and into a large rubber barrel. The barrel would be filled with something that made every intake of air a nightmare. ...

Mandy was awakened by the constant itching from her legs, thankful she was in her own bed and it had all been a dream, a wonderful, kinky, scary dream. Her hands were frantically scratching her thighs making her pull the covers back while she swung her legs out from under them. The loud clunk when her feet hit the hard wood floor cleared her fuzzy mind making her slowly look towards her feet and gasp. The stunned woman said “Oh my god it was real?” ...

Def: Oculus Mirror – a mirror in which the more you look at it the more you see your evil reflection. Prologue: The old man walked along the side walk slowly. His cane helped him along so he wouldn’t stumble. Soon he came to a row of shops and entered the one with the sign ‘Antiques’ hanging above the door. Walking into the room he took a look around and noticed something amiss. The clerk came out of the back room and spied the old man and said, “Hello Herr Brunner, how was your lunch?” ...

Alice had achieved her goal, she was exhausted she hadn’t slept more than a few hours a night all week and worked a full schedule plus two shifts for others who failed to come in. During the nights she was home she had slipped her feet into her new ballet boots, inserted her largest vibrators turning both on high before locking the leather chastity belt on herself to keep them inside her, then cuffing her ankles together and her hands behind her back around the thick bed post forcing her stand all night in the uncomfortable boots, the leather hood with its large cock gag was added just to keep her quiet. The clock would drop her keys while ringing loudly giving her just enough time to get dressed and get to work. ...

“My Lord Aloric?” The man named Aloric glanced up from his desk. “Yes?” “My Lord, we have the item you purchased.” Aloric smiled. “Very good. Bring her in.” Nodding, the man backed from the room, only to return a moment later with another. Between them, they carried a bundle that squirmed and grunted in their grasp. Once inside the door, they set the squirming bundle on the floor. “On her feet, if you please.” ...

(story continues from Dream Weaver: Origins and Dreams) Dream Weaver: Origins and Dreams Part 2: The Third Dream If Laura had looked uncomfortable going to bed in her basic underwear the first night I met her, than that third night she’d looked positively pained sleeping in an oversized t-shirt and boy-shorts. She also made a request that I not take part in her dream, I could watch if I wanted, but she didn’t feel comfortable with me being a part of it. I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to watch though, so when she fell asleep I triggered the spell. ...

(story continues from Her Contract Entails 3) Part Four Henry chanced a look into his mirror, supposedly checking out the flow of traffic, but in reality flagellating himself with another stolen glance at the occupants of the back seat. Aubrey Lister sat back on the leather like a king reclining on his throne, his face a picture of self-assured crapulence as he draped one arm over the shoulder of his favourite pet, the other lost beneath the fabric of her tight denim skirt. ...

This is my story, only you the readers can judge its merit; as for me I remain as described for my lifetime. Annon My life had fallen apart last year; my husband of nearly ten years had walked out on me leaving me alone in the world’s tiniest village. We had one church and two pubs and about a hundred houses. Mostly filled with older residents who had lived in the village forever. We were listed in the dooms-day book and nothing new had happened since then. ...

A Halloween Special 2010 Tale It was the end of August and summer was ending, but that was when the real fun had started for Kris, who owned an old factory in the bad part of town. The city offered her a deal of no property taxes until she could find new people to rent or buy the factory she had inherited. The tax board figured correctly that she couldn’t afford the taxes, and if they forced her to demo the building, it would turn into a Superfund site and use up millions in tax money. If that happened, those jobs had a less than zero chance of returning to the community. The local thugs left the place alone, possibly because there was a rumor that the place was haunted, a rumor that Kris perpetuated. As a result the place looked much the same as when her relatives made whatever mechanical things the factory was known for. ...

This story was an entry into the 2010 Winter Fetish Story Contest SOMNAMBULIST When I first saw them, I thought sleeping in a sleepsack would be like sleeping in a coffin, only more comfortable. Turns out it isn’t. But not for the reasons I’d imagined. Maybe it would be without electric pads up my doodad and on my nipples. They send shocks at random intervals. It’s ironic complaining so loudly though – ironic because I put them there myself. ...

Darkness. It was always the first thing she saw. She would come home to it and she would leave in it. That was the way it was every time. Carol walked in the empty apartment and shut the door behind her. She liked it. She liked not being able to see where she was. The rest of her life was so boring; this bit of fantasy was all she had. She could make herself feel just a tinge of fear at first. She would fill her mind with all sorts of gruesome ../images. Each time to her surprise, she would get to the point where she would feel that bitter taste of real fear. So real that each step to the light switch was one too many. ...

continues from part one Part Two - Locked Inside Karen lay on her back in the trunk. It had been several hours since Zoe had gone off to bed and a soft shaft of moonlight lay across the trunk. Karen could see the moon’s blue glow peeking in through the crack where the lid joined the rest of the trunk. Stifling a yawn with her fist, she drew her knees up towards her chest and curled up on her side, trying to get as comfortable as possible in the tight confines of the chest. Gradually she drifted off to sleep, dreaming… ...

(story continues from Dream Weaver: A Week in Plastic) Dream Weaver: Origins and Dreams Oh. So you want to know how my shop got its name eh? Yes, that will do nicely for a story. Though at that time I wasn’t really recording anything, so this will just be what I happen to be able to remember. It was maybe… about twenty years ago? Maybe a little more, time doesn’t really hold that much meaning for me beyond day to day appointments. Anyway, I was just getting bored of my “live like a normal person” phase, and was looking for an outlet for my magic. Somehow, though I can’t remember the details of it, I got it in my head that it would be fun to pretend to be a genie and grant someone’s wish. So I enchanted one of those classic genie-oil-lamps to alert me if someone rubbed it. Then I tossed it aside in a park in the middle of the night and left. I remember it took a few days for someone to finally try it, but it did eventually happen, and I did pop out of the lamp wearing a stereotypical Arabian outfit. Now, I’d expected there to be a handful of people around, maybe with a few poking fun at the person who rubbed the lamp, so I made a grand sweeping bow saying “How may I serve you master?” before I took a look at my surroundings. An ear-piercing shriek brought me to my senses, and caused me to take stock of where I was; standing in a bathroom with a young woman soaking in a tub, at that moment trying to gather soap around herself in an attempt to conceal her body. I made a quick judgement call, and decided it would be more fun not to break character. “Well Mistress, if you didn’t like the idea of me seeing you naked perhaps you shouldn’t have summoned me while washing yourself.” I said, keeping the somewhat haughty tone I’d used when entering. “I didn’t actually expect that to work! Genies aren’t real! Nothing is supposed to happen when you rub a lamp!” She retorted while still trying to cover herself. “I’ll admit my kind are rare, but there ARE stories about us. Never discount stories as totally false, they have to come from somewhere right?” Just as a side note, genies ARE real, they just like to keep to themselves. That Aladdin movie had it all wrong; their lamps are a paradise for them. They’re basically gods of their own realms in there so why would they want to come out? “I’m still allowed to be surprised that you popped out, you just said yourself that you’re rare!” “OK I’ll give you that. Now, as long as I’m here I believe I owe you three wishes?” “Would it count as a wish for me to ask you to turn around so I can get out of here and at least wrap a towel around myself?” “I suppose that one can be on me.” “Thank you.” At this point I turned and she got out of the tub and began to dry herself off. “So do you have a name?” “Call me Quill, Mistress.” Now, it was fortunate for me that she didn’t ask me to leave to room. Why you might ask? Because she forgot that there was a mirror behind me. When she got out of the bath I got a rather good look at her body, before she wrapped it in a towel. She was maybe five-and-a-half feet tall, and couldn’t have weighed more than one-twenty, with a fair amount of that weight distributed on her chest. She had strawberry blonde hair in soft curls down just beyond her shoulders, a fair complexion, and amazingly clear skin. If that rogue mage from my last story had captured this girl, she would never spend longer than a few minutes on display before someone rented her again. “And you call me Laura, being called Mistress feels weird.” “Very well Laura. So now that you’ve dried off, do you have any wishes?” “Well…” She turned so red at this point that I figured she’d have boiled her bath if she was still in it. “I do have one wish. You might think it’s silly though.” “If it is for something frivolous then do not worry yourself. I know you mere mortals have strange tastes, and it is not my job to judge them, just to indulge them.” “Well… I need to figure out how to phrase this. I don’t want my wish to backfire on me.” “Then perhaps I can help you figure that part out. I know some stories of my brethren have us deliberately misinterpreting wishes for our own sadistic amusement, and I wish to assure you I am not that kind of genie.” “How do I know I can trust you?” “You don’t. But just don’t say ‘I wish’ before you talk it out to me and I cannot act on it.” “I guess that part is true. OK, I’ll just think out loud then. You let me say what all I’m thinking, then I’ll ask for your opinion. Got it Quill?” “Ok Laura, do as you wish.” “By the time I have used all three of my wishes, this is what I want to have happened: I want to be a toy. Not a woman, not even really me, at least not the way I am now. I want someone to own my body, and I want my body to do whatever that person says, up to and including having it change shape on their command. I want to always remain a woman though, and always humanoid. Things like my hair colour, ethnicity, breast size and the like would be totally up to my owner though. Even what my body is made of could be changed on command; if my owner wants me to be a statue, great! A lovedoll? No sweat! As for my mind, I want to be disconnected from myself, in kind of a waking dream state. I would see my owner as my boyfriend/husband, and I would be in the perfect relationship. So, is this all possible?” I was… stunned to say the least. She’d obviously been harbouring this fantasy for quite some time and I did want to help her with it, but it involved mind-magic. Now, I don’t think I’ve fully explained my position on messing with other peoples heads so let me do it here: it’s evil. Oh, it can be used for some good purposes, but overall it’s powerful, dangerous magic that has a good chance to corrupt the user and target alike. IF the target is willing then there’s no chance of them being corrupted, but there is still a good chance for the caster. Corruption, in magic terms, is a persons personal magic supply becoming tainted with impure emotions. What impure emotions are are up for debate, but hate, disdain for life, and the need to rob others of their free will, are pretty safe bets. What corruption means for a mage is that they’re slowly going to be taken over by their magic; losing themselves to the pursuit of whatever tainted them to begin with. So someone who became corrupted by enslaving people is going to go out and try more and more crazy things to enslave more and more people. For a non-mage corruption tends to lead to insanity. So it’s something to be avoided. There is however one single, convoluted, difficult, and time-consuming method to get around all of that though: a technique known as Dream Weaving. It can only be performed on a willing subject, so that eliminates the chances of the target being corrupted. Additionally it can only be used to make changes the target desires, and I’m not talking waking desires, I mean the desires of the heart. If someone wants something badly enough it becomes a part of them, and Dream Weaving is all about the mage making those desires manifest, by giving the subconscious enough power to make it happen. So because the mage isn’t actually doing all that much, besides providing power, and maybe a gently nudging the targets dreams in the right direction, there’s no chance of corruption. This is the technique I used with Laura, after explaining how it was possible of course. “So that’s what I would need to do in order to complete your wish.” “You can’t just snap your fingers and make it happen?” “Unfortunately no. What you are asking for would take more power than I have available to me at any given moment, but over the course of time I can make it happen. You need only say ‘I wish for you to fulfil my innermost desire’ and I will begin carrying out my task each time you sleep.” “Well then… Quill, I wish for you to fulfil my innermost desire.” “I shall begin tonight then. Sweet dreams Laura.” ...

(story continues from Her Contract Entails) Part Two Carla was surprised by the view of the building as the car pulled to a stop with the sound of gravel crunching beneath the wheels. Although she had to admit that she would have been at a loss to describe what she expected the clinic in which she would be operated upon might look like, the red brick house she saw through the window looked to her more like something from a costume drama than a location at which a woman might be able to have herself transformed into a mermaid. As if the whole idea of what awaited her was not strange enough, she now found her mind struggling to cope with the unfamiliar surroundings of an English country house at the same time. ...

(story continues from Her Contract Entails 2) Part Three The darkness of the room was not truly penetrated as the door opened, but the corridor outside was filled with a shading of deep shadow rather than an absence of light and so a portion small degree of that dark was replaced with shades of grey instead. A vaguely human shape flitted through the gloom and made for the bed, followed moments later by a far larger figure that could have been mistaken for a hunched bear. While the smaller figure moved with purpose and without pause, the larger constantly glanced back over one shoulder as if fearing discovery at any moment. ...

(story continues from Indiscretion 2) Chapter 3 It was raining in sheets and the winter daylight had just faded, although the overcast sky had hastened the darkness. The wet pavement shone with the reflected beams of yellow streetlights. Jack’s grey Jag pulled up outside his trucking yard and he climbed out, pausing to click the lock. Erith, a bleak town edging South East London, wasn’t a good area. Holding a newspaper over his head, he quickly made for a door in the corrugated iron fence. Pushing it shut behind him, he ran towards the porta-cabin office - his Italian leather shoes splashing in muddy puddles and crunching over gravel. ...