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  It had started so casually. Dave brought up a familiar subject during a friendly game of golf. Dave knew his preferences where women were concerned having been his college roommate. However, the conversation came with a twist and a request. He’d said “No”, to begin with. Then, “Hell, no!”

  It was about spending one night with a submissive woman Dave knew. It was risky. The Dom/sub relationship was too involved for just one night. He wasn’t looking to “test drive a used car”. However, a brand new one was usually disappointing. Besides, he wasn’t looking, period. Dave nodded sagely at this bit of “male speak”, understanding completely.

  Dave then continued with his argument and insisted she really was a sub, one who knew the life. Not some rookie experimenting. Good old Dave ignored the whole “test drive” portion of the decline. Dave described her as gorgeous. She was a widow whose husband, her Dom, had died. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. All she wanted was one night of submission. She wanted no expectations from either of them beyond that one night together. No names. No commitments.

  She didn’t know who he was. She didn’t want him to know her name. No other information but vital stats. Everything sounded great at the time. When Dave told him her measurements, he hadn’t believed them. In fact, he decided that if half of what Dave said about her was accurate, she was too good to be true.

  Oh, hell, yes! his internal beast bellowed. This woman was everything promised and more. Being in excellent shape was a safety measure when you looked at her. It made one wonder what her husband died from. On second thought, it was a good thing that guy was gone. The situation could have gotten ugly abruptly if he’d met her on the arm of another man. All right, that was something not to be thought about again. Ever! Intense, irrational rage flash-flooded his system at the thought of her belonging to another man. Rage was not a useful emotion. It made a man do stupid things.

  Right now, coherent thought eluded him though. It could be a question of which head was in control. Okay, down boy. She’s here. She’d never done this before according to Dave. She sure wasn’t going to do it again. Not with someone else, that is.

  Get a grip, man! Damn good idea his beast agreed.

  His hand stroked down past her blushing ass cheek. Two fingers traced through the liquid hunger that graced her inner thighs. He drew in a deep breath and her scent went straight to his dick. The magnificent body before him quivered as his fingers bypassed the soft, swollen petals of her cunt this time. More liquid slid out of her as he watched her cunt contract and release in excitement.

  Her responsiveness was as overwhelming as was everything about her. He struggled to maintain the cold, aloof Dom she’d asked for. It hadn’t been a problem before tonight. Being a Dom was the natural expression of his aggressive, protective, assertive personality. He’d never even considered another way to express himself sexually. However, this woman made him a man who wanted her more than he wanted to dominate her. The unfamiliar ground he now stood on was about like walking across a minefield. One wrong step and he’d lose her.

  This woman’s need and hunger leapt at him off the questionnaire he’d insisted she fill out. On paper, she was open, a little shy, but seemed honest. He’d studied between the lines carefully. Her response on paper could have been a deal breaker. If he’d sensed, just one time, that she was not being straight with him, it would have been over before any meeting occurred.

  What he’d seen on paper actually made him hard. She’d even mentioned dreams briefly. It was in her response to the question about why she needed this. When he saw her answer, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Really. That answer alone had brought him here.

  I have a repeated dream that I must escape. He is a dark Dom who I feel will not leave me until I have lived what he wants me to feel, she wrote. That cloudy statement with its murky meaning hooked him, at the same time it chilled him.

  The questionnaire didn’t included questions about dreams. How often were they? Had she ever Dream Walked before? He needed answers to all those things, but those answers would wait. Having her in front of him right now took up all the space in his blood-starved brain.

  He picked up the tube of lubricant from the coffee table as he walked around behind her. Reaching down, he pulled her ass cheeks apart rudely and inserted the tube in her tiny rear hole. Insistent fingers squeezed the cold slippery invader into that constricted orifice. She jerked at the rough handling, but steadied herself quickly. Easing the tube out of her, he rapidly applied a line of lubricant down his two middle fingers and tossed the tube on the floor in front of her. Taking hold of her hip firmly and using his thumb to pull her ass back open, he pressed one large finger against her tight opening.

  “Now breathe deeply. Relax and push back.” His finger pressed in and she tightened around it.

  “If you don’t relax, it will hurt more, pet. Either way the plug is going in.” He barely managed the harsh tone while watching his finger sink into her ass down to the first knuckle. A streak of lightning zipped up his balls as he attended to the wicked invasion.

  He paused and permitted her to catch her breath. When she’d relaxed enough to be unsuspecting, he sharply pressed all the way in. Her tight, hot ass squeezed down on that invader as it forced untouched tissue to separate and admit him. More cream slid down her leg as her vagina clenched in desperate spasms. That physical reaction told him all he needed to know. She wanted this.

  Prin gasped loudly at the intrusion as the dangerous stranger behind her chuckled. Panting hard and trembling from head to toe, Prin tried to relax while his finger worked its way slowly out then back in again with a hard push. She gulped air harshly when he repeated the motions more swiftly this time.

  He was glad she couldn’t see his face as he pressed that digit into her. The grimace would have frightened her as he struggled to control the powerful impulse to take what was his.

  Her ass was on fire! It was a fire burned through with secret pleasure. She knew it was depraved to enjoy a man doing this to her. Somewhere in her foggy brain, a stuffy puritan screamed at her. She couldn’t focus on that right now. Well, she couldn’t focus on anything right now. All normal functions ceased as this new, potent brew of sensations and emotions ripped through her being.

  When her knees started to buckle, his other arm snaked around her hips.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he crooned, and dragged her staggering body backwards against him into the bedroom. His finger remained rammed in to the hilt as he shoved her up onto the bed.

  The bedroom was palatial. It easily housed the California king-sized bed that was draped in a burgundy spread. All she could see of the room was that spread as he deposited her on it.

  “Kneel. Head down,” he commanded in staccato instructions. She quickly struggled to obey without dislodging the finger up her ass.

  Her knees spread wide as she perched on the edge of the bed. Calves and feet dangled out into space while her face was buried in the spread. Clutching the bedding, Prin braced for his demanding use of her body.

  Moving between her knees, he firmly gripped the rounded flesh presented to him and added another finger slicing into her. He plunged in steadily. Twisting the fingers as he withdrew, he never crossed the line into pure pain. Almost methodically, he administered the finger-fucking to her ass. Undeniably ensuring her submission by increasing the intensity as swiftly as she could take it.

  The carnal insistence of his movements stated ownership. This was preparation. Her, for his use. He wouldn’t damage her, but he would use her as he pleased. This complete domination fed every shameful, secret desire buried deep within her. He dragged the nasty whore up from her shadowy hiding place with each thrust of those appalling fingers. His total control was her guilty pleasure. It immersed her soul in this consuming, shattering experience that imposed submission in every way.

  Burning pain overlaid with unimaginable excitement held her in its clutches. How she needed this! Shock, coupled with carnal fire affe
cted her like a drug to enhance the pleasure into a spinning mass of mind-altering sensations. Her world narrowed to just her body, deliriously soaking up every decadent reaction. This ominous, demanding stranger allowed her to revel in the whore he made of her. Her cunt now felt empty and hungry. Without thought, the needy whore strained her back painfully, trying to present it to him.

  Gasps and moans escaped her mouth every time he plunged those two fingers into her sizzling ass. Suddenly three fingers slid into her, stretching her. The words just fell out of her mouth as her body absorbed this new assault.

  “Oh, please, please. I can’t take it! You’re killing me! Please…” she shrieked as his other hand landed sharply on her bottom and a new fire exploded up her spine. The fingers inside her paused and then ruthlessly spread out as wide as possible to stretch her. Never had she felt more possessed, more dominated, more owned than at this moment with this man.

  Her entire world was swiftly, expertly, ripped away from her. Her total self subjugated in a way that allowed no memories of past lovers. He permitted no thoughts outside his complete control of her. He’d intentionally focused every shred of her consciousness on his possession of her. There could be nothing but him. Nothing but what he demanded she feel. He’d spread her out and taken what he wanted with no preliminaries. Straight to her deepest fear, her most shameful fantasy, he owned it.

  Fear rocked her, but it wasn’t fear of him, it was her own horrifying reactions to him. Submission was supposed to be something she enjoyed but could give up. This one night she intended to be her last venture into that world. She’d agreed to this because of the dreams, because of her need to escape. She’d deluded herself into thinking this would be a night of a little naughtiness, but mostly just entertainment.

  Regardless of all the posturing on paper prior to this encounter, who would have believed that the personification of male Domination lived in one man? He didn’t ask. He took everything. There would be no warming up to his desires. He expected her to take him when he wanted it, and how he wanted it. His abrupt intrusion into her virgin ass had decisively driven all prior experiences from her mind. It was a statement and a test. He stated his ownership while testing her willingness to comply.

  Her cunt oozed its silky essence. Engorged and flushed, it quivered with intense excitement and proclaimed her body’s need of him. His expression turned feral as he surveyed her swollen clit and wet cunt.

  “Calm down, Baby Girl. That’s it,” his voice soothed while she regained composure. His unwavering gaze enjoyed the picture she made, spread before him with three fingers jammed up her newly deflowered back hole. Her whole body quaked with fine tremors that she couldn’t control. God, she was beautiful.

  If there’d been any hint that she didn’t want this, wasn’t eating it up, he would have gathered her up into his arms and just held her the rest of the night. His pleasure would be the gentle worship of her body. To that end, he’d lick every inch of it reverently, and suck on the tender bits until she literally floated on a cloud of ecstasy.

  Dream Angel’s naked little cunt was swollen and slathered with her excitement. Her impaled ass was shyly pushing back onto his fingers. He could feel her press into each nasty invasion. He smiled darkly. Baby Girl liked the razor-edge of pain with her pleasure. It wasn’t such a bad thing that they started out here. Sexually, it put all the cards on the table.

  Her surrender of dignity and control stroked his inner beast. Deep down, in a place she probably didn’t even know existed, she knew she was safe with him. He’d intentionally gone right to the one thing she’d never done. It was necessary to get her absolute surrender fast. If she could do this, she would soon be totally immersed in what they were together. Her focus on his possession of her, his complete control of her pleasure was the only plan he’d come up with to tie her to him immediately.

  “Now, then,” he murmured quietly when he knew she could hear him. “That was quite a fit. Don’t think we won’t address it later, my lovely little whore. For right now you have one job, don’t move. Do you understand your instruction?” he demanded when she didn’t respond immediately.

  She swallowed loudly and nodded. Speaking again seemed unwise. Prin’s eyes closed tightly, she waited for whatever was next. Oh, God, what had she done? What did “addressing it later” mean? The possibilities loomed large as the fire from that one spank still ate at her ass. The terms of the agreement flickered in her mind. Its ironclad demands for total submission could not have been made any clearer, including speaking only when given permission.

  Chapter Two

  It started when her best friend Marisa suggested a solution to Prin’s sleeping problem.

  No, it started with those damn dreams! Whenever it started, she didn’t have the time or desire to find a Dom. It was just too much trouble, and way too risky. There were so many “wannabes” out there. Besides, no one could replace Kurt. She couldn’t even imagine finding that again.

  Kurt hadn’t been so much a true Dom, as he was an inventive, loving playmate. He enjoyed the Domination/submission sessions, but it wasn’t their lifestyle. Her submission was an addictive, exciting game they played often, but he never pushed her like he could have. Perhaps he didn’t even know how much more she wanted. It was too late now.

  Now she woke up trembling and crying every night. It wasn’t the sharp pain of losing your lover anymore. No. Utter sexual frustration was the cunt-cramping pain that now tormented her nights.

  About two years after Kurt died, she started having dreams about a dark lover. His face was cloaked in shadows—only pale, piercing eyes watching her were always clearly visible. They looked into her soul and demanded her submission as he took her repeatedly. He was so large, so wicked and so dominant.

  In her dreams, he’d taken her in ways Kurt never had. The mysterious Dom made her feel things that should have been new. His demands on her body should have been wrong, too much, but they weren’t. She’d wanted every minute of his domination. Her body would be bathed in sweat as her dripping cunt pulsed in empty desperation when she awakened.

  Her dreams were vivid, so wrenchingly real that she started to avoid sleep. If she got tired enough, perhaps he wouldn’t come to her. She wanted to get over it, or him, or whatever the hell he represented in her twisted subconscious.

  He kept coming for her. Sometimes he just held her, but he was still there. When he was gentle like that, it affected Prin even more. Making her long for someone who didn’t even exist. He drove her to question her grip on reality. How could you want a dream lover to the exclusion of everyone else? People were put away for this sort of thing.

  Her best friend noticed her frazzled condition and demanded to know why. Marisa would not be stopped when she got her teeth into something. She badgered and hounded an already exhausted Prin until Prin told all.

  Marisa told her husband Dave about Prin’s dreams and how she couldn’t escape them. They reasoned a safe encounter with someone who could be trusted might help. Dave suggested a Dom he knew.

  Prin immediately said, “Hell, no! Not in this lifetime.”

  Two months later Marisa insisted on telling Prin all about this guy Dave knew. He was the image of the dream lover Prin had described. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. He wouldn’t want anything else from her. Dave had known him for years and he was safe, not a whacko. Besides, Prin had started to look like week-old shit.

  In an attempt to put Marisa off, Prin came up with a long list of rules for any hypothetical encounter. No names, no personal info, no contact before or after the one night at a hotel. He couldn’t live locally. There had to be no possibility that they’d ever meet again socially. He must allow her to leave first, and he could not be someone Kurt had known.

  Prin was sure no sensible Dom would accept that from a sub. Not for just one night, sight unseen. Prin stopped worrying about it, reasonably secure in a forthcoming negative response.

  Three months after she’d sent him off with her li
st of requirements, Dave handed her a written contract. A very detailed questionnaire accompanied the contract. Prin was instructed to answer it and return it to Dave, who would return it to the Dom. Apparently Marisa and Dave were working together, Prin registered with disgust. They worried about her total lack of interest in men since her husband died. However, with a dream lover like hers, who had the time?

  This “wonder” Dom of theirs had signed one contract and she was supposed to sign the other one. Dave would retain both signed contracts so neither party got a peek at the other’s name.

  The long document listed his requirements as well as hers. It explained how to prepare herself in intimate detail. She blushed wildly and became incredibly wet as she read those instructions. The contract told her how to be clothed for him, what to do when she entered the hotel room, etc.

  Several arguments compelled her into this trek down the yellow brick road. One was her extremely high safety level. Her best friends knew where she would be and with whom. The insidious temptation grew with each supposed safeguard. Just one more taste of the wicked pleasure submission brought her. Perhaps the dreams were her subconscious demanding just a little bit more of the fire and pleasure. Maybe if she could take her need to submit and fulfill it completely, then it would fade.

  Dave was to drop her off and pick her up. She would not have agreed to this without someone being there directly after the night. It discouraged unwanted physical abuse. The possibility of just one night with a reasonable substitute of her dream lover became too seductive to pass up. At the very least, she would end up with a bit of relief from the relentless ache between her legs. Add to that the possibility of a good night’s sleep afterwards, and the idea was downright irresistible.