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To Sleep...

By: CarolynFaulkner



I couldn't get to sleep. Insomnia is not usual for me, but occasionally it grasps me and shakes me awake and won't let go. The last time it was this bad was when my Dad died. Getting three or four hours of sleep a night when I regularly require nine makes me cranky and grumpy at best, which is not my usual persona at all.

I know I'm keeping you awake with my tossing and turning, which just makes me feel that much worse. Finally, I end up on my back, sighing in exasperation, close to tears of pure frustration.

I hear you roll towards me in the dark, yawning loudly then swallowing. "Still awake, Muffin?" The soft, tender words hurt almost more than your anger would.

Close enough to out and out sobbing, I nod my head vigorously - forgetting that you can't see it in the dark. I force a watery "huh-huh" out while hugging myself, praying that you don't want to hold or touch me, because then the dam will let loose and I'll embarrass myself again with a huge flood of tears.

Without another word, you slide down my body so that your mouth is at hip level, touching my knee in quiet command.

My leg flinches as tears spill down into my hair. "No," I say as softly as I can, hoping you won't hear it and somehow also won't notice that I'm not obeying. Fear at my own little rebellion drives the tears from my eyes.

This makes you sit up just a little, your hand both possessive and familiar on my thigh, as I worry and wait for the inevitable scolding - maybe even a spanking.

But I'm resigned to my fate, stuck in that eternal loop of bratty, fretful stubbornness.

"I know you're pretty strung out, hon, so I'm gonna give you another chance." Your voice is exquisitely neutral - neither condemning nor cajoling, merely stating.

I appreciate the second chance - they were almost never given - but I can't obey you. I simply can't. It's beyond me right now, despite the fact that everything in me has always wanted nothing more than to be your good little girl, even when I make the occasional mistake. I'm almost never blatantly trying to be bad; punishment is usually a sin of omission or miscalculation. I am not bratty by nature at all. I seek support and approval, which you gladly provide by the heaping bushel, not that it ever seems to be enough.

Discipline, too, is provide just that regularly, if and when you deem it necessary.

And you are just about to deem, since my legs remain where they are, tightly closed.

"Go get me your hairbrush," you say almost sadly, as if this is something you would rather not have to do, but you're too much my Daddy to relent. As if to illustrate the seriouness of your order, you move just a tad away, removing your warmth as an impetus for me to do as I am told.

My brush is a big wooden paddle brush - solid and hefty in the hand, and devastating even on a panty-protected butt. It's not the one I use in the morning to rearrange my curls because I have so much hair that the bristles don't get to the tangle underneath. But sometimes, when I'm deep into littlegirlspace, you sit me infront of you and brush my hair and it's positively mezmerizing for the both of us - quieting and calming and so perfectly Daddy/littlegirlish.

But that's not what's going to happen with the brush this time, I'd be willing to bet on it. Nothing anywhere near that pleasant. I am slow - much too slow, and I know it - slow to move, to get off the bed and cross the cool, rug-scattered hardwood floor to my pretty oak vanity. The brush is where it's always supposed to be - innocuously on display on a unique, mirrored oak tray you brought back from an antique shop one day.

I deliver it to you with my head down, lip pouted out, with an almost defiant air that cannot be good for the health of my rear. "C'mere." With the head of the brush, you pat the spot on the bed next to you that I just vacated. I climb over you and fall into place on my back as you turn on the touch lamp on the nightstand next to the bed. When you roll back over to me, all it takes is one bushy, raised eyebrow to get me to sigh exasperatedly and move onto my stomach, some safer amount of inches away from you.

"Get'cher butt back here." A serious order, idly delivered. When you're relaxed, the facade of the urbane businessman fades and the country boy peeks out, complete with soft twang.

One look at your face confirms that you were not fooling around. How I could have the audacity to be grumpy with you when you have the brush in your hand, I don't know. I can only plead sleep-deprivation. I sigh in a manner that leaves no doubt that I am doing you a considerable favor in obeying you as I scooch over a little bit more, then a little bit more, until my side is plastered to your front, stretched out shoulder to toe.

The sigh was not a smart move. Not at all.

If I had been the contrite, weepy little girl I'd been when you first realized I was still awake, I would probably have gotten no more than a few slaps - probably even with your hand - that would have made me cry and gotten some of what I bottle up out, then you could kiss and cuddle me and perhaps bring me off and lull me to sleep in the aftermath.

But the easy way is rarely what I choose, by word or deed, and with you the hard way means being forcibly reduced to tears by an implement in your hand, ruthlessly applied to the area on my body that seems to have been specifically designed to receive such correction. Just as we fit together so perfectly in other equally intimate ways, so our compatability also extends to this.

It is a gift, a depth of communication that I will not come to appreciate until after you're out of my life. A hard, humbling depth of trust.

You need. I give.

I need. You give. 

In spades.

The sound of that thing as it bruises me is something I will never forget. It's not the artifical *snap* or *crack* of so many wannabe-spanked authors. It's a dullish, and unbelievably painful thud - on my butt and my heart at the same time, and I'm never quite sure which agony is worse. I hate to disappoint you in anyway, but seem to inevitably, regardless of my good intentions.

I'm supposed to lie still while being punished. It is an impossible task, but one I do my best to manage because I know full well that I do not want extra bonus swats - even from just your hand. You are scrupulous about covering all of what you - in your military-esque style of thinking - would consider the target area - every inch of my rounded cheeks and down the backs of those poor, innocent thighs.

Sitting tomorrow is going to be an adventure in pain - no flopping into a chair for me, and no tight jeans.

As the spanking continues, I feel as if I would give anything I owned - sell years off my life, if necessary - to stop another connection between flat, unforgiving wood and cringing butt. My fists clench; I have my pillow locked in a death-hug, squeezing the stuffing out of it with every yipe and yelp.

But no tears. Where have they gone? Always helpful, they desert me in my hour of need. I'm obviously hurting but dry-eyed.

"Please, Sir - no - more," I pant. "Ow - uh - ssssssssss - umm - please - no -"

Your answer is to increase your staccato tempo and cup my face in your palm.

It was the hand that did it, and not the one holding the brush.

Hairbrushes, belts, canes, paddles - these kinds of tantalizing distress I can bear - I crave it; it craves me, not that I don't feel its physical effects - I most certainly do. For days after.

Tenderness, compassion, understanding - those I cannot endure. They are anathema to me. 

But the gates had been opened by that simple gesture of love and affection. I bury my face in the pillow, my whole body tensed and defensive against them, but the battle is lost.

Six more swats, delivered in a mind-numbing set that marks me well in every corner of my backside, and the brush is dropped to the floor and I am in your arms.

You hold me as tightly as you can, kissing my face, letting me cry as you know I need to, rocking and hugging and rocking more. But well before I've cried it out, while I'm still sniffling and weakly compliant, you drift down my body to the area between my open legs. I can feel your chest hair dragging over my skin, over the already exposed flesh between my legs.

My groans immediately take on a different quality entirely as you dip your head to the heart and heat of me, that open, wet mouth trapping my straining clitty and surrounding it with your unbearable heat, laying the flat of your tongue directly on top of that not-so-little bud. One hand reaches up to capture a nipple, milking firmly, insistently, while two fingers of your right hand find their home inside me, still having to press hard to open me for your invasion, even after all this time.

In this manner, I am taken - filled and licked and pinched and rolled, at times praying for you to stop, other times acknowldging humbly that I will die if you do. You know me too well for me to be able to deny you any response. Your hand reaches deep inside me as I arch to your mouth, inadvertantly impaling myself further. You take my action as an invitation - and whether or not it was is of no concern - adding a third digit and forcing me to accommodate it, knowing how I love to be stretched by you, how much I enjoy submitting to you this way.

That is the icing on the cake, as you knew it would be, just that slight pinching pain as I try to relax and accept the girth of your triangled fingers while your lips and tongue worry that nub constantly, driving me towards my end with a frightening single-mindedness.

My body demands the utmost tension, hips rising and privates clamping down on your hand, holding you locked in place as I begin to keen that soulful, wordless song that hearlads the inevitability of fulfillment. In contrast to my frantic gyrations, your movements become more languid, making me take it slow and experience every long second of the ultimate pleasure, drawing out those few droplets of time before the first blissfully painful contraction, when my mind is free of every thought save that of unbearable, prickly anticipation.

When it comes, when I mindlessly obey the dictates of my body and spasm and jerk and clench and literally SCREAM with it, in an ungainly and entirely uncontrollable display, you will not let me get away from you - from those plunging fingers or your ravenous mouth - until ever drop of ecstasy has been coaxed from me and I collapse, spent and exhausted onto the bed.

I am still panting, barely beginning to recover, when you wrap me in your arms, kissing me tenderly on the lips. I can taste myself on you, and your acceptance of that taste is comforting to me. 

"Sleepy?" you ask, rubbing my back lazily.

"God yes," I mumble, barely coherent.

"I was hoping to make you faint again," you casually throw out, knowing what an institation it will be.

Too tired to smack you like I should, I settled for tugging on the nearest tuft of chest hair, quite satisfied with the yelped results.

"Sleep," you command, kissing me on the top of my head.

And I do.

To Sleep or Not To Sleep



I hear the door open quietly and someone step inside. They close the door with a gentle click and they stand there waiting. I know they are watching me as I feign sleep so I pretend to move in my dreams and knock the bedclothes from me, exposing my naked breasts. My nipples harden on contact with the cool air and I hear the person in my room breathing deeply. 

I hear the padding of their feet on the carpet as they creep across the room towards my double bed. I am surprised. Usually they leave when they have seen my breasts. I feel fingers hesitantly brush against my nipples and feel my pussy instantly getting wet as the mystery fingers caress my bare breasts. I keep my eyes tightly shut and try to keep my breathing sound like the deep breathing of sleep. I feel a warm wet mouth envelope my nipple and gently start to suck me. It feels so good as they lick and suck me. I again pretend to move in my sleep and I hear the person jump back away from me. I stretch "in my sleep" and roll over, knocking the bedclothes off my naked body, exposing pussy and ass as I roll. I make sure to roll far enough to leave room on the bed for somebody to join me. I snuggle up slightly, tucking my knees up, knowing I am now exposing my glistening wet lips to my mystery admirer.

As I pretend to settle back into sleep I hear the person speak for the first time. "Dirty bitch," he whispers. I hear him dart forwards and feel a single finger run along my wet slit. It takes all my self control to keep my breathing rhythmic as he slips a fingertip inside of me. I just want to push myself back onto him, but I can't. Not yet.

He removes his finger and steps away from the bed. I hear him quietly tug off his trousers and then also remove his underwear. I feel the bed dip ever so slowly as it takes his weight as he climbs onto it next to me. 

I continue to pretend to be asleep and nothing happens. I begin to wonder if my mystery guest has fallen asleep. Then suddenly I feel it again, a finger running along my wet pussy lips and a finger enters me. He pushes it deep inside me and slowly pulls it out and then pushes two fingers in and out and then three. I am yearning to be filled and almost beg for more. He is slowly pumping them in and out of me, in and out. I feel myself getting wetter and wetter. "So fucking wet," he whispers to himself. He removes his fingers and reaches around to my clit. He is moving loudly and seems to be forgetting that I'm "asleep" so I pretend to stir again. He pauses with his fingers about to touch me. 

When I am still again, he slowly and quietly returns his fingers to my pussyhole, lubes them up with my juices and gently reaches back over and begins rubbing my clit. He adjusts his position on the bed so his body is closer to mine and I feel his hardness pressing against my ass. I struggle to contain my moans as he rubs and caresses me. I get closer and closer to the edge as he touches and teases my clit but just as I am about to cum, he pauses and I feel pressure on my pussyhole. I realise it's the head of his dick and I feel the large mushroom tip teasing me as he runs it up and down my slit. Suddenly he slams his hips forwards and I feel his huge dick ram into my warm wet pussy. I feel his cock rubbing the walls of my cunt and I am so full of dick that I scream out with pleasure.

"I fucking knew you were awake, you dirty bitch!" He mutters triumphantly in my ear pounding me harder and harder. I try to turn to see who it is but he forces my head down onto the bed facing away from him.

"Tell me who you are," I pant as he thrusts deeply into me. 

"No," he whispers and using the hand that isn't holding me down, he pinches my nipples until I yelp. As the pain from my nipples combines with the pleasure from the fast and hard pounding, I feel myself losing control and my body begins to shake uncontrollably. I moan loudly as I buck and jerk, cumming and spreading my juices all over his solid dick.

"I know I could make you cum," he whispers in my ear as he continues to pump into me while I slump forwards, spent from the pleasure. I feel my juices spilling onto my bed and I yearn for him to fill me with his cum. 

"Fill me," I moan, "Fuck me and cream me please!" I beg as I push myself against him. He laughs and pounds me even harder. Suddenly his body stiffens. He grips my breasts tightly and he pushes his cock deeper than I ever thought it could go. I feel his hot spunk shooting into me and I moan loudly with pleasure as his body jerks against mine. 

He pulls his now spent cock out of me and stops holding my head. I don't turn to see who it is. I hear him pulling on his clothes and walking towards the door.

"Sleep tight," he says and then he is gone.



To Sleep, Perchance to Cream



It didn't take long at all before Jen and I were asleep on the plane. Her head was snuggled onto my shoulder and my cheek rested on the top of it, the sweet aroma of her shampooed hair filling my head like incense. I had a blanket pulled up over my breasts because the passenger cabin was so cool and the guy with a unibrow sitting on my other side—a frat guy with his cap, of course, turned backward—kept glancing down at the cold-stimulated nippies poking through my tank top. 

The frattie, who smelled like beer-scented cologne, kinda looked like a caveman from one of those insurance commercials on TV. In addition to the single brow stretching above his reddish, partied-out eyes, he had long, straggly hair, a wide mouth, and a kind of jutting jaw that reminded me of one of those pictures of Neanderthal skulls in my anthropology textbook. He was nice enough, I guess, but his polite demeanor barely concealed his horny ulterior intentions as he lecherously leered down at my bare thighs and my cleavage as he rambled on in his Southern drawl. 

I know it was rude, but I dropped off to sleep in the middle of a long-winded story cave boy was telling me. He found it hilarious (something about one of his frat brothers puking on a chick as he was making out with her; real classy), but I was totally exhausted from the night before...

The jet taxied slowly onto the runway and I pulled the blanket up to my neck and I rested my cheek on Jen's soft, freshly clean hair as the drone of the engines, the frat boy's endless blathering, and the flight attendant's spiel about what to do in the unlikely event of a water landing merged into one soothing hum and then things went black.

Considering the lezzie orgy Jen and I had participated in the previous night with the privileged party girl friends, not to mention the various other, um, indiscretions I had throughout the week, it's not surprising that erotic visions were soon flooding my slumbering, oversexed mind. There had been a couple random guys I had fucked (how could I resist?)...but I had really turned up the heat on my long-simmering desire to have sex with other women. As with most chicks like me, I had had one or two dalliances with other girls before (it's a part of the sorority experience, after all), but as my experience the night before attested, I had really plunged into the warm Sapphic depths of my hidden female lusts during my spring break in Cancun. 

In my dreams, images of rich, come-drenched pussies from the night before writhed between parted thighs amid rumpled silk satin sheets; smooth hips swiveled and swayed and rose and fell; pretty upturned faces were contorted in ecstasy; a seemingly endless variety of sheening, sun-bathed titties thrust in my face, swung over my head, pressed onto my own fleshy globes, and jiggled furiously before me with solid, suckable nipples heaving and straining eagerly toward my hungering mouth. 

Perhaps it was the jet lifting off the Yucatan Peninsula and soaring into the azure sky, but in my randy reverie I had the sensation that I was unmoored and floating adrift, slowly twisting, turning, and submerging in a tumultuous sea of hot, undulating female bodies clustering together on an expansive, rollicking bed, all of us slipping and sliding and surging together in a gushing, giggling girly orgy...In that sensual sea of sisterly sex, a pussy hovered over me like an exotic pink bird with curls of dark plumage seeking a place to land. Sturdy thighs rose like pillars on either side of my head and, converging at the pussy apex, the thighs spread farther and farther apart into a kind of cheerleader split as the cunt lowered to my upturned face and I eagerly sucked its slick velvety wings into my mouth, gripping the pillar-like thighs with my hands. 

As I sucked and slurped at the pussy, the unique, womanly taste and scent filling my mouth and nose, the pubic curls bristling against my chin, I could hear someone begin to spank the ass of the girl whose twat filled my mouth. She thrust her hips with slow, steady intensity, trying to keep herself under control but growing incredibly wet nonetheless all over my nose as my tongue lapped at her stiff protruding clitty and the hand continued to slap her taut ass cheek again and again and again. She was obviously enjoying the pleasure of my cunnilingual explorations of her delectable labia along with the punishing slaps someone delivered across her buttocks. 

I had my thighs spread far apart during all this, hoping the girl astride my face would return the favor and lick my fully exposed cunt, but she remained poised in her cheerleader split over my face humping her hips slow and hard in increasingly tense thrusts. 

I was blissfully nestled between her legs and surrounded by her sex...my whole world and universe consisted of thighs, wet pussy flesh and hair, and an erect clit. Her juices practically splashed over me with each ever-increasing furious gyration of her hips until her body suddenly jostled wildly above me and the full weight of her pussy crushed down on my face and she came and came and came all over me, grinding herself so hard onto my nose I was afraid she would break it or suffocate me.

And then it was like I was again tumbling into a creamy current of female fucking, one moment sandwiched between two girls who kissed each other over my shoulder, the next a nipple was in my mouth as I fingered someone's ass, then everything shifted and I'm licking a pussy before looking up and kissing some chick on the mouth who had also just looked up from between two thighs, the taste of the two pussies mixing together on our swirling tongues...hands were massaging my tits, the tangle of legs, feet, bellies, pussies, hips, breasts, backs, faces, hair, asses around me all blurring hotly together in a growing frenzy of extreme grrrl power, our individual identities subsumed into one rising, swelling, splashing awesome group orgasm that seemed to shudder and shake the stars for hours, our excited cries and climactic squeals filling the room like shrill seagulls shrieking above a fierce, pounding surf spilling onto the burning sand of a steamy, tropical beach. 

I was like a castaway washed ashore gasping for air, tits dangling all around me like fleshy coconuts hanging from tilting torso palm trees, the foamy honey come surf splashing forcefully over my hips and legs, lapping at my pussy, rinsing over my waist and breasts, and covering my face in a warm, sweaty torrent. I was tossed in wave after crushing wave of feminine release when suddenly gruff hands gripped my arms and dragged me from the sultry surf...and I found myself surrounded by a tribe of Neanderthal frat guys in colorful, tattered swim-trunk loincloths, all gripping slim dick-like spears in one hand and bottles of beer in the other. 

"What the fuck?" I thought as they whooped and grunted all around me lecherously, hands roughly groping my tits, fingers pawing my pussy, and gripping my ass. They swarmed around me in a crazy excitement trying to kiss me, tugging at my hair, rubbing themselves up against my naked body and sliding their hands all over me. 

The slobbering frattie cave boys bound my wrists and ankles together and slid a phallic spear between them so I dangled from it like prized game and they trotted carrying me swaying from it into a lush jungle of colossal male and female bodies intertwined together in a thick, sweltering fleshy throng, cocks like gargantuan anacondas probing deeply inside sultry cavernous cunts, vine-covered balls drooping like forbidden purple fruit, mountainous ass cheeks and boulder-sized breasts and chiseled male chests and slim female midriffs jumbled together and to make up the bizarre landscape surrounding us as women's plaintive cries and men's guttural grunts filled the dense tropical atmosphere with a frenetic cacophony of animal lust. 

After the frattie tribe carried me between two mountainous tits rising up like gelatinous pyramids with the hard nipple temples jutting heavenward toward the gods and goddesses, they tied me in a roiling hot tub and danced around me to a throbbing electro-bass line, slapping each other high fives as they chugged beer bongs in a horny celebration and jabbed at me with their long cock-spears. 

I kept wondering where the fuck Robbie, my boyfriend, was and why he wasn't rescuing me from this group of troglodytes when they suddenly became silent and slowly parted to make a pathway. 

Striding toward me down the path was this incredibly hung, totally buff and naked alpha male, smirking arrogantly and holding his amazingly long, rock-solid cock in his hand like a royal scepter. 

All thoughts of my boyfriend evaporated with the foamy hot tub water bubbling around me as I gawked at his incredible appendage. The frat boys ogled at us like retarded monkeys as the alpha male stepped into the water and waded toward me. He stood there a moment towering over my exposed, petite body and looking me up and down approvingly, still gripping his cock like a cudgel. I wanted him to fuck me and fuck me hard with that solid cock pushing and prodding and pounding relentlessly into my grasping pussy as it stretched around it to accomodate its thick circumference. 

He stepped toward me, his dick throbbing and appearing to strain to reach my patch of curls, when suddenly this really cute chick wearing nothing but a golden triple triangle pendant of a Tri-Delt necklace around her neck stepped into the tub with us and waded over to me, sliding her naked and visibly aroused body against mine.

"Hi," she breathed huskily as she slid her hand up my thigh, her pussy pressing against my hip, her erect nipple touching mine. "I'm Erin." 

"I'm Sheila," I breathed back and, finding my wrists were no longer constrained, held her slender waist in my hands and drew her even closer to me. 

"And I'm gonna come," the alpha male muttered through his teeth, watching as Erin pressed her cherry-red lips onto mine in a sweet, tongue-touching kiss as her fingers pushed firmly onto my pussy puff where she began to rub me the right way. The alpha male stood stroking his dick so rapidly that it bobbed in and out of the water like a crazed, one-eyed eel.

Somehow I found myself laying back on a bed now with my legs raised in the air and spread far apart with Alpha Guy's between them on his knees slowly heaving his hips and sliding his long, jizzum-filled dick deeply in and out of my slippery cunt. Erin knelt hunched over beside us, her hand reaching up and pinching my nipple with her fingers, her shoulder-length hair shrouding her pretty face, her head bobbing up and down as she tongued my clit, then turned to lick the guy's cock when he pulled it glistening from my vagina, and then returned to flicking it on my clit again.  

"Oooooooh!" I could hear myself croon as if in a dream, the simultaneous licking and fucking, and fucking and licking of my two lovers causing my back to arch as I thrust my hips and curled my toes in the air and pushed my head back into the pillow with my heart pounding crazily and I felt myself grow sooooooo close to coming and coming and coming hard, the tongue flicking madly at my aroused clit, the head of the cock sinking into my depths and mercilessly slamming into my womb hard and fast, the tongue tip now pushing onto where the cock pounded into me, the pinching fingers tugging at my nipple...

And I came, my mouth hanging open but making no sound at first because I was so tense, and then I heard myself cry out with the top of my head rolling on the pillow and my entire body savagely convulsing in release as Alpha Guy withdrew his shaft from my lap, took Erin's head in his hands, and growled as his cock spit a spurting stream of sperm all over her face. 

With the come dripping from Erin's cheeks onto my belly, the three of us melted into the mattress as it slowly became an enormous ice cream sundae consisting of gooey cunts and gummy breasts and blow-pop cocks. 

I'm on my hands and knees in the drippy, mushy mound, eagerly swirling my tongue around a whip-creamed gushing twat one moment and voraciously sucking my lips around a glistening lollipop dick the next while jerking off two banana-curved cocks with each hand. Pretty girls and studly guys, all of them without clothes or inhibitions, are writhing sloppily together in the scrumptious, dreamy mess, fucking and sucking, licking and kissing, and I loll around among them shamelessly with my face pressed between two delicious, creamy pussies rubbing against my cheeks, the banana cocks I yank with each hand beginning to gob copious dollops of milky tapioca all over my...

"Nuts?" 

The guy sitting next to me had elbowed me and was grinning, holding out a bag of peanuts the flight attendant had given him for our in-flight snack.

I sat there a moment totally confused and feeling somewhat embarrassed but not knowing exactly why. Jen was still snoozing on my shoulder and my blanket had fallen down to my lap during my nap. As I slowly woke up, I was relieved that it was bunched down there because it was concealing the naughty secret that I had come in my shorts during my sleep.

"Um, no," I said kind of bitchily, pulling the blanket back up to my neck and closing my eyes. It was obvious he was just trying to hit on me again. "I'm not hungry."

And, considering my lusty over-indulgences during my week in Cancun, I certainly didn't have much of an appetite anymore, especially for Neanderthal frat boys. I nodded off again feeling deeply sated and now desiring only the release of sleep.

At least for now, anyway.



To Sleep Perchance to Cream



Chapter 1

"You look horrible!" 

Beverly chuckled upon hearing Janie say those words. She thought about saying something witty in response to this comment, but the most she could come up with was, "Yeah, I know."

Janie cracked a slight smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean --"

"No. You're right." Beverly took a sip from her coffee. "I certainly feel horrible."

"Still not sleeping, huh?"

"Nope." Beverly thought about how her sleepless nights also hurt her ability to keep up a conversation.

Janie leaned over the cubicle wall that separated their desks and whispered, "How long's it been now?"

"Ya know, I got no sense of time anymore. Two weeks? A month? Longer? It feels like forever."

"Maybe you should see a doctor."

"I did. Two or three days ago. He prescribed me something that was supposed to help me relax. All it did was give me a headache. So I was up late last night, couldn't sleep, put on the TV and started channel surfing. Ended up watching kids shows in Spanish. Did you know that the Spanish word for 'smurf' is 'pitufo'?"

Janie chuckled and said, "Um... No." 

Beverly yawned and added, "Yup. And the Spanish word for 'absosmurfly' would be 'absopitufamente'." 

Janie let the conversation come to a stop before she added, "Ya know... My brother was having trouble sleeping not long ago, and he... well, he found out about some clinic that has some way of helping people get a good night's sleep. Do, uh... Do you want me to call him and find out their number?"

Beverly rubbed her eyes. "I, uh... Sure. Why not?"

Janie raised her index finger as she sat back down in her own seat, put her headset on, and pressed a few buttons on her telephone. 

Beverly tried to listen to what Janie was saying on the phone, but her voice turned into a monotonous droning. As a distraction, Beverly squinted at her computer monitor to read an e-mail from her boss, groaning silently. Rubbing her temples, she shook her head and decided that her boss could wait. 

She leaned back in her chair, ignoring the squeaking noise that it emitted. She squinted at the fluorescent lights above her.

Just as Beverly began to comfortable in her chair, Janie stood up. With a slapping noise, Janie placed a sticky note over Beverly's monitor. "Call them!"

"Wh - what?"

"The sleep clinic my brother goes to. He can't say enough good things about this place. Call them and set up an appointment."

Beverly tried to think of an objection. How had Janie's brother heard about this place? How bad was his insomnia? Was it anything like what she was dealing with?  What do they do at this sleep clinic that her doctor couldn't help with?  Beverly scowled but said nothing of her reservations.

Janie sensed Beverly's hesitation. "Look. My brother's wife complained about his snoring. She threatened to kick him out and his boss recommended this place. He went to the clinic and they said he had sleep apnea. They did something and he's sleeping fine now. I don't quite understand what they do there, but... Just call them!"

Feeling the pressure of her neighbor's gaze, Beverly sighed and picked up her own headset. "All right. I'll... I'll call."

Beverly dialed the number and flinched as the sound of the phone ringing through her headset. After a couple of rings, a woman's voice spoke, "Thank you for calling the Somnos Sleep Clinic. How may I help you?"

"Yeah, um... I... I've been having trouble sleeping for a while now and..."

"Are you saying you have insomnia?"

"Yes. I haven't slept in I don't know how long. A friend of mine..."

"How soon would you like to come in?"

"Um..."

"I'm sorry. I guess I need to explain how we work, don't I?"

"Um... I guess."

"Our founder, Conor Dunleavy, was a graduate student when he discovered an electronic means of performing a neural stimulation that is an effective cure for just about every sleep disorder out there."

"Um... Neural stimulation?"

"Sorry. It's kind of complicated to explain, but we use radio waves to help you fall asleep and then keep the sleep steady, consistent, and restful for the entire night."

Beverly still didn't understand this explanation, but she figured this was just her lack of sleep that kept her from truly grasping it. "Oh, um. All right, I guess."

"You said you're suffering from insomnia? Could you please describe what happens when you try to fall asleep?"

"Um. Well, I go to bed. Usually between about 10 and 11 o'clock at night. I usually just lie there for what feels like forever. Maybe I'll shift my position to get more comfortable, but it's always the same thing. By midnight or 1 am, I realize I'm nowhere near ready to fall asleep, so I get up and try to do something to help me get some sleep. I'll usually either surf the net or see what's on late night TV. Either way, I don't get any sleep and then it's time to go to work and, well..."

"I completely understand. If I may say so, insomnia is Dr. Dunleavy's specialty. Let me see when we have open. Give me a sec..."

Beverly glanced up at Janie and mouthed the words, "They want to make an appointment."

Janie smiled broadly and gave Beverly a "thumbs up" sign.

The receptionist came back on the phone and said, "All right! We've got --"

"Wait a sec," Beverly interrupted. "I, uh... I don't have a whole lot of money or anything."

"That's not something to worry about. Your first appointment is completely free of charge. And we accept most major insurance plans. The only reason not to come is because you don't want to improve your sleep patterns. You do want to get a good night's sleep, don't you?"

"Well, of course I do. It's just --"

"Then it's settled. We have an opening tomorrow night. Can you come in?"

"Um. I..." Beverly glanced over at Janie, who was nodding vigorously. "I, uh... I need to know how to get there."

"That's not a problem. Just give me your e-mail address and I'll send you a confirmation of your appointment and directions to our office. All we ask of you is that you bring a bag with pajamas and your usual nighttime toiletries. And that you arrive no later than 8:30 pm."

"What time would I get out the following morning?"

"About eight."

Beverly paused for a minute. "I... I guess that'll be all right."

"Great! Let me just take your information down and I'll email you the confirmation."

Beverly proceeded to answer questions about her full name, address, age, and history of sleep disorders. 

Janie looked up at the sound of Beverly hanging up the phone. "Well?"

"I've got an appointment tomorrow night."

"Awesome!"

"Well, we'll see what happens."

 

Chapter 2

The following night, Beverly drove to the Somnos Sleep Clinic. The building reminded her a little bit of the office where she worked as an intern in college. She looked up at the water tower that rose above the parking lot and chuckled. "Here's hoping we don't get an earthquake," she said to her reflection in her rear view mirror as she parked her car.

Retrieving her overnight bag from the trunk of her car, she slowly walked into the building. She made a note of the tasteful, yet somewhat boring decorations as she strode up to the receptionist's window. "You must be Beverly," the receptionist said the moment Beverly was close enough to hear.

"Um, yes."

"I spoke with you yesterday. It's so good to see you could make it. If you could just fill these out, we'll be with you in a moment."

The receptionist slid a clipboard with a pen and a couple of forms underneath the window. Beverly took the papers and the clipboard over to a seat in the corner of the waiting room and began to complete the paperwork.

The forms started out somewhat innocuous: it asked for her name, address, and insurance information. From there, it started asking about medical history, past surgeries and extended-duration hospitalizations. 

She paused to recall the timing of when she had had her wisdom teeth extracted and, during that pause, a woman wearing sunglasses and an overcoat, strode into the clinic, an overnight bag swinging from her shoulder.

The receptionist cheerfully said, "It's good to see you back here, Melissa."

"It's good to be back. I'm not running late, am I?"

"Not at all. Just go right back. You'll be in room number 3 tonight."

"Thank you."

Melissa walked through a door in the back of the waiting room. 

Beverly mused that, if Melissa was any indication, then the enthusiasm of the patients was a plus for this clinic. She was seventeen when her wisdom teeth were removed and she figured that would be good enough for the form.

After that, Beverly filled in a free-form section that described her current complaints regarding her issues with her sleep. Below that was a series of questions that felt like they were becoming too personal:

*Which of the following do you consider a source of stress in your life? Check all that apply. *

The options were listed in two columns below the question:

-- Job

-- Lack of job

-- Current romantic relationship

-- Lack of current romantic relationship 

-- Sex life

-- Lack of sex life

-- Health worries

-- Family issues

-- Money/Expenses

-- Political issues

-- Legal issues

-- Other

The blank lines next to the issues pertaining to family, politics, legalities, and "other" implied that Beverly would need to elaborate on the specifics if she chose them. 

Beverly checked "Job" and "Lack of current romantic relationship." She decided against checking "Lack of sex life" as a source of stress; she figured that the lack of the romantic relationship implied that she wasn't getting laid with any regularity.

The next question also struck her as somewhat unusual: *Do you consider yourself politically liberal, conservative, or moderate?* She checked the box next to the word 'moderate.'

The next question asked, *If you were to die today, would you go to heaven, hell, or somewhere else? Explain your answer.*

She looked up at the receptionist when she saw this question. The receptionist was typing something into her computer. The truth was, she hadn't really thought about it since she was a little girl. She didn't care if the doctor thought it was a cop-out, but she decided to answer this question by writing "That depends upon your definitions of heaven and hell."

*How long has it been since the last time you had sexual relations with another person?*

Beverly really didn't feel comfortable answering questions like this. They already knew that she wasn't in a romantic relationship; did she need to go into the details of her current needs? She stood up and strode cautiously over to the receptionist, who looked up as Beverly approached the window.

"Yes?"

"There's ... some questions here that I, um, would rather not answer."

"That's all right. You can skip any questions you don't like."

She eyeballed the remainder of the questions and decided she didn't want to go into any details about her masturbation habits, homosexual encounters, or past drug use. She was fine saying that she doesn't take any illegal drugs now, but they had no right to ask about which drugs she had experimented with more than ten years before.

"Here you go, then." Beverly put the clipboard down on the counter somewhat harder than she had meant to do.

"You hold on to it until Dr. Dunleavy comes in. I'll let him know you're ready."

"Thanks."

She sat back down and began thumbing through a seven-month old newsmagazine. She mused that reading old news articles effectively accomplished two things: first, for those articles about matters that actually interested her when they happened, she decided that she already knew more than what was reported in the magazine. Second, for those articles about matters she didn't care about initially, her sense of apathy had not waned any in the time that followed. 

She quickly found her way to a review of a disaster movie. She chuckled as she read the closing paragraphs of the review: "At one point, someone looks up at the mountain and asks his neighbor, 'Is it going to blow?' You bet. And so will the volcano."

"Is something funny?"

Beverly jumped at the sound of a man's voice behind her. "Oh! Um... Nothing. I was just..."

"Just waiting for me to show up. Good evening. My name's Dr. Conor Dunleavy. Research that I performed in graduate school led me to open this clinic a little bit over a year ago now. I trust you're comfortable."

"Yes. Thank you very much." She absentmindedly ran her hand over the handle of her luggage.

"May I see your paperwork?"

"What? Oh, um.. Sure." She handed the clipboard to the doctor and watched as he quickly flipped through some of the pages she had filled out.

"Mmm hmmmmm... All right." He looked up and put the clipboard down to the side. Smiling warmly, he leaned closer to her and said, "Beverly, I'm not going to ask you to go into any more detail about those matters on the questionnaire that you chose not to answer. But I want you to understand that, once you go through that door, you will not be leaving here until the morning. So did those questions on the form make you uncomfortable?"

"Uncomfortable? I just don't want my sexual history that, um, visible, even if it is within your own files."

"That seems fair. Now I have to warn you of one thing, Beverly. This isn't in the paperwork and I certainly won't write this down. But it might be reason enough for you to decide you don't want to take advantage of my services here." He leaned in conspiratorially, and, in a tone just louder than a whisper, told her, "A lot of my clients report that they have very vivid, very sexual, very erotic dreams. I guess, by the loosest definitions of the word, this can be a side-effect of the treatment."

Beverly, who was feeling simultaneously exhausted and anxious to see if this trial would actually work, took a moment to process this information. 

"Erotic dreams?"

"Yes. I'm not entirely sure why it happens, but too many people have told me this to doubt that it's related to my treatment. I sometimes wonder if some of my repeat customers are just faking their sleep-related issues just to be hooked up to one of my machines. Knowing that this could happen with you, you have two choices. First, you can come back with me and I'll help you sleep again." He gestured towards the door through which Melissa had walked when she first came in. "Or you can take your bag, go home, and we go our separate ways, never to see each other again in a setting like this."

Beverly considered the doctor's comments and said, finally, "All right, doctor. You can count me in."

"Great! Let's get started." The doctor held the door open and gestured for Beverly to walk through.

 

Chapter 3

Dr. Dunleavy escorted Beverly to a small room in the middle of a long, dimly lit corridor. Beverly stepped into the room and assessed it: a comfortable-looking bed without a headboard or footrests. Nightstands on either side of the bed. A small desk lamp on one of the nightstands. A couple of plants on the windowsill. A small sink in the corner of the room.

"This is the room where your insomnia will end. I'll leave you for a minute while you get changed into your sleepwear." 

Before Beverly could respond, the doctor had left Beverly alone and closed the door.

After Beverly stepped out of her shoes, she threw her overnight bag onto the bed, opened it, and pulled out a pair of pink satin pajamas. She turned back to the door to confirm that it was, in fact, closed, before she got changed. 

Not knowing how long she would have before the doctor returned, she quickly walked over to the sink and began to brush her teeth. As she was brushing her teeth, she heard a knock on her door.

"May I come in?"

She quickly spit out the frothy mixture of toothpaste, saliva, and the remnants of the food she had eaten throughout the day, and called, "Come in!"

Dr. Dunleavy wheeled a small machine into her room. 

Beverly took a drink of water from a dixie cup and put her toothbrush down on the sink. 

"Would you mind please putting this on?" He pulled a piece of fabric out of a small bag that he had brought into the room with the machine.

She took the fabric and stretched it between her hands for a minute, not entirely sure what to do with it.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, smiling. "Please wear it like a headband. You see that darker square on the one side? Try and center that on your forehead roughly between your eyes."

"Oh. Okay." 

She quickly put on the headband and adjusted it so that the square was over her forehead. 

Dr. Dunleavy lifted the machine off of his wheeled cart and onto one of the nightstands. "Is that comfortable? Too tight? Too loose?"

"It's ... a little tight but not too uncomfortable."

He reached forward and adjusted the headband with his thumbs. 

"Better?"

"I guess. Thank you."

"Sleep is all about comfort. Now. Let me explain to you what's going to happen. After you lie down in bed, I'm going to turn this machine on. The machine will emit radio waves at a special frequency. You won't hear it, but it will get picked up by a specially designed microchip in your headband. That's where the dark spot is. As it receives the waves, it'll send a little pulse into your head, stimulating the part of your brain that regulates your need for sleep. I usually ask my patients to count backwards from ten, slowly." He paused before adding, with a chuckle, "I've never had anyone make it all the way to one.

"And then you'll sleep the rest of the night. When you wake up in the morning, you'll feel like your old self again. Your body and your mind will be fully rested."

"But I'm going to have dreams about sex," Beverly giggled.

"Most likely, yes. It's not a given but that does seem to be the rule. Pretty much everyone says that's a small price to pay for as restful a sleep as you can have."

"I ... I guess I agree with that. As long as I don't have to... you know... talk about the dreams in the morning."

"Tell you what. You'll only have to tell me about your dreams if they're not sexual. How's that sound?"

"All right, I guess."

"Great! Would you mind please getting into bed? Is it comfortable?"

"The mattress is soft enough, that's true, but could I please get another blanket? It's a little bit colder in here than I'd hoped."

"Sure!" He quickly retrieved a blanket from the bottom of his cart and spread it out above her body. "That better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"All right. Unless you have any more questions, I'm going to turn on your machine."

"I think I'm good for now."

"Great. Now if you'll just lie back and put your hands by your sides."

Beverly felt a little bit nervous and a little bit skeptical that this headband would somehow help her fall asleep after the failure so many other supposed "cures" for her insomnia, but she recognized her own desperation and saw no harm in arguing or worrying about this point.

Dr. Dunleavy leaned over to the machine and pressed a couple of buttons. The machine made a dull whirring sound as it started up.

"Now. Can you count backwards, slowly, from ten?"

Beverly took a deep breath and softly muttered, "Ten."

She felt no different when she said "Nine" or "Eight."

When she said the number "Seven," however, she felt all of the tension slowly leave her lower back and her shoulders. She turned her head slightly but the sheer comfort of the situation made her decide to allow whatever was about to happen, to happen.

"Six." She suddenly felt like she needed to close her eyes and, once again, she did not fight the feeling she received in her body.

"Five." She felt a tiny bead of saliva slide out of her mouth and down her cheek. She felt no desire to move her hands to wipe her mouth.

"Four." Her body had become so relaxed, so calm, so tired, that she started to slur her speech with this number.




To Sleep Perchance to Cream



"Thr..." before she could get out the sounds of the number 'three', she had drifted into a deep sleep and started snoring.

"Very good, Beverly." The doctor lifted her hand and released it. As it flopped back down onto the bed by her side, he grinned. He added, "Very good, Beverly" as he walked out of her room.

 

Chapter 4

Dr. Dunleavy walked over to the receptionist and asked, "How many patients do we have tonight, Aileen?"

"A full house, sir. Stewart, Roger, and Melissa are returning patients, and Beverly is a new patient."

"Are they all here?"

"Yes, sir.  Melissa was the last to arrive, but she got herself set up and she's been asleep now for about ten minutes."

"Did Beverly see any of them?"

"She was in the waiting room when Melissa arrived. Considering the way Melissa hurried in, and the way she was dressed, I doubt Beverly got much of a look at Melissa's face."

"Good."

"I know Beverly's in room 1. Does that mean Melissa's in room 3?"

"Yes. And Roger's in room 2."

"Got it. So how have you decorated the central hall tonight?"

"Why don't you go see for yourself?"

"Do we have to play this game every night?"

"Do you have to ask every night? I'd think you'd need more details than anything I might say about what I did. You'd need to, um, see my handiwork firsthand, wouldn't you?"

"And I would check it out anyway. I'd just like ... to, uh, you know. Know what your theme is before I walk in there."

"So you admit to me that you have other ways of finding out."

"Of course I do. I'd just think that you'd want to tell me."

"Blame my upbringing."

"I always do, Aileen. I always do." He turned on his heels and strode to the central hall. The moment he opened the door, he smiled broadly. "Now this looks like it'll be a lot of fun for our four patients tonight."

He looked up at one of the cameras that monitored activity in this room and gave his receptionist a "thumbs up" sign.

Glancing at his watch, he recognized that he had about ten minutes to kill before Beverly would be ready, so he returned to his office and decided to play a few games of solitaire on his computer.

After losing two straight games, the young doctor glanced at his watch and realized it was time. He launched an application on his computer and stared at a few lines of encoded information in green text against a black background. 

As he continued to type, he made a point of glancing out of his door and into the corridor. Melissa slowly walked past his office, her back completely straight, her eyes fixed straight ahead. She was wearing a gray bathrobe. 

After Melissa was out of sight in the hallway, Dr. Dunleavy glanced at a closed-circuit television camera monitor. After a few moments of watching an empty room, he smiled as Melissa appeared in the monitor. From what he could tell, her face was expressionless, eyes barely open. He typed a few commands on his computer and Melissa strode over to a table near the wall. She then picked up one object and held on to it.

"Perfect, Melissa. Absolutely perfect," he whispered. 

*****

Once the first commands had registered in the computer, Beverly let out a gasp. She sat upright in her bed, turned so that her feet hung over the edge, and stood up.

 

Chapter 5

Beverly's sleeping body moved of its own volition. Her hand moved inside of her pajama top and, in a sweeping gesture, unbuttoned all of the buttons, before both hands hung limply by her side.

She swayed slightly in a few different directions and the smooth fabric of her nightshirt fell off behind her, revealing her breasts to the darkened room.

She continued swaying until she landed gently back onto her bed. Her hands moved to the pieces of elastic that kept her pajama bottom and her underwear on at her hips. Stretching both articles of clothing with her thumbs, she lowered them to her knees and stood up again. 

Her legs then started moving in an almost march-like stride. In no time, the remainder of her clothes had fallen gently to her ankles and then onto the floor.

Once naked, she held out both of her hands in front of her and marched out of her room, down the hallway, and into the central hall. 

Melissa had been waiting in the central hall ever since her own nocturnal wanderings had taken her to this point. The only clothing she had been wearing was the gray bathrobe, which now lay at her feet. 

Beverly stopped a little bit over an arm's length away from Melissa. Once she stopped walking, Beverly opened her mouth and raised the back of her long hair above her head.

Melissa stepped forward and stuffed an object into Beverly's mouth. With Beverly's hair out of the way, Melissa walked around and clasped it shut, locking it into Beverly's mouth.

Melissa then lowered her hands and pinched both of Beverly's nipples. 

Upon feeling this sensation, Beverly let out a low squeal, however she was unable to vocalize too much due to the gag she now wore.

Melissa backed away as Beverly let out a low snort, confirming that her body was still asleep.

Beverly walked slowly to the middle of the room. 

The two men, Stewart and Roger, walked into the room, their arms outstretched before them. In a fluid, synchronized motion, both men threw off their own gray bathrobes and stood naked before the two women. All four people stood facing each other before the two men broke off and walked towards one side of the room

The men waited by the wall and, after a moment, a large round piece of wood -- a large wheel -- rolled out in front of them. They quickly rolled it back to where the two women stood, bringing it to a stop directly behind where Beverly stood. 

Melissa knelt down and secured Beverly's left ankle to a leather strap near the bottom of the wooden wheel. Beverly spread her legs as Melissa bound her right ankle.

The two men bound Beverly's hands above her head.

Once Beverly was bound solidly, the two men moved the board upon which she was bound, adjusting it so that it was parallel to the floor. Had her eyes been able to focus on anything specific within the room, she would have been looking at the ceiling.

Melissa stepped forward and began to lick Beverly's pussy. The sensation of Melissa's tongue and lips probing and exploring every fold and ridge of her flesh, made Beverly let out a low moan that vibrated through her gag, even in her subconscious state.

Melissa probed Beverly's body more deeply. In response, Beverly arched her back, her body reacting to the stimuli she was receiving as she got wetter and wetter under Melissa's knowing tongue.

Once Melissa was satisfied that she had prepared the newcomer for the pleasures of the sleep clinic, she stood up. Melissa walked around Beverly's bound body, taking care to pinch both nipples before walking away. 

In another corner of the room, Melissa saw her destination: she approached the wooden apparatus and knelt down before it. She then leaned forward and placed her head and arms in the designated spaces.

Stewart followed Melissa and closed the "rack" over her head and wrists, binding her in her place. He wagged his cock in front of her face, grazing her lips with the tip. Melissa let out a gasp as he did this.

Melissa's gasp was barely audible over the sounds Beverly was making: Roger had found his way over to the bound newcomer, removed her gag, and had mounted her, teasing her engorged slit with his cock before thrusting deeply into her.

Stewart strode slowly behind Melissa, parted her legs slightly, and took her from behind.

*****

In short time, the subconscious yelps of both women echoed throughout the clinic. 

Dr. Dunleavy looked away from his monitors and smiled at his receptionist, who by now, was sitting next to him in his office. "So how'd you come up with the idea of the dungeon motif?"

"Oh, well, you know..." Aileen blushed slightly. 

The doctor chuckled. "Well, at any rate, as always, you do good work. I think this is better than the deserted island you did last week."

"Thank you." After a short pause, the receptionist leaned closer to her boss. "So, does this give you any ideas?"

"That depends. What did you have in mind?"

She started to run her hand up and down his chest and said "Oh... Nothing in particular."

He closed his eyes and let his assistant have her way with him. It was one of the fringe benefits of working here, he mused, as she rocked his world.

 

Chapter 6

Shortly before the sun rose the following morning, Beverly and the other patients sleep-walked back to their respective rooms. Dr. Dunleavy was waiting for her there, and he helped her to get back into her pajamas.

Once she was back in her nightclothes, she lay back down in bed and he pulled the covers back up over her body.

He adjusted a dial on the machine by her bedside and waited for the low hum to recede.

"Now, Beverly. I suppose you need to understand what happened here tonight. The headband you wore tonight helped you to get to sleep, there is no question about that. I added some additional programming into the microchip in the headband, and that resulted in your activities overnight with the other patients.

"When you wake up in the morning, you will remember what happened tonight, but it will seem to you as though it were a very vivid, very erotic dream. And, of course, you enjoyed it tremendously, even if you might not feel comfortable talking about dreams like this in your normal, daily routine.

"Now. You will not have any major issues with your sleep from now on, but you will also find that you will not feel quite as refreshed on a daily basis, as you will feel when you do wake up in about an hour or so. So you will want to come back to this clinic on average of once every other week or so. You will authorize us to bill your insurance, and will be willing to cover any costs that your insurance might not be willing to pay. I do not anticipate this being more than a relatively small amount for any given visit to the clinic."

Beverly let out a low snort.

"I have one more thing that you should be aware of. While I can't instruct you of what you should wear when you sleep at home, from here on in, you will sleep in the nude here at the clinic. The only article of clothing you should want to wear here once you get settled in, is a bathrobe. When you wake up, I will recommend that you purchase a bathrobe that has been branded with our logo on it, and you will do so before you leave. If you understand everything I've told you, then nod your head."

Beverly nodded her head.

"Very good. Now let's let your body wind down from your amazing experience tonight. I'll be back in time for you to wake up."

The doctor pressed a few buttons on the machine by her bed, got up and walked out of her room. When he reached the doorway, he turned back to glance at her silhouetted, sleeping form. He mused about how peaceful she looked before turning back around and closing the door.

 

Chapter 7

At about 7:30, the machine by Beverly's bed stopped making its humming noise. Almost as if on cue, Beverly opened her eyes, squinted at the light shining through her window, blinked a few times, and stretched her arms above her head.

As she inhaled deeply from the first restful night's sleep in some time, her hands immediately went between her legs to confirm that, yes, her panties were somewhat wet from the erotic dream she had had the night before.

She turned her head to one side and immediately pulled her hand away from her crotch. "Oh, Dr. Dunleavy! I, um... I didn't see you there."

"That's all right, Beverly. If you'd feel more comfortable, you can call me Conor."

"Um, I think Dr. Dunleavy's probably better for me, if you don't mind. Takes my mind off of how young you look."

"That's fine. Either way, I'm always in my first-time patients' rooms when they wake up. I just want to see how you feel."

"I feel great!" she answered without hesitation. "Even before I started having trouble sleeping, I don't think I ever slept that well."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"But, um..." she looked away from the doctor. "Remember last night how you said that a lot of your patients have really, um... you know... uh... sexual dreams?"

"Yes." He spoke the word slowly and deliberately.

She looked around to make sure that she was alone with her doctor before whispering, "Yes. I've never had a dream like that before."

"I don't want to say or do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable, but would you like to tell me about it?"

"I, um, don't want to say too much, but I was in this dungeon and this girl put a gag in my mouth and then I was tied to this round table and this guy. Actually two guys ... and the girl, now that I think of it, they, um, they all got to have their way with me, and, um... Well, I couldn't, I mean it was really sensual and really, well... I, um... I think I enjoyed that dream in my sleep, if you know what I mean."

"Do you mind if I ask, are you 'into' that sort of thing?" He made a quote mark gesture with his fingers as he said the word 'into.'

"No! Or, rather, I, um, I don't think I am. I've never done anything like that before."

"Well, if it means anything, a lot of my patients tell me their dreams often involve activities that are outside of their, shall we say, comfort zones, but that they liked it anyway. Now, I really can't tell you what you should or shouldn't do in your personal life, but sometimes I wonder if I ought to do a study on the nature of these dreams and whether or not I'm tapping into something deep in my patients' subconscious about their desires and fantasies, experiences and interests."

"Well, I think you should.."

"Thank you. Now. For a few business matters to round out. First, you are under no obligation to come back here for additional sleep assistance, but if you feel you need it, I'm going to have to bill your insurance for any future services. Do you think you'll want to do that?"

"I do." Beverly paused, thinking she sounded a bit too enthusiastic in that answer. "I, um, er, that might be a good idea."

"That's fine. Normally, insurance doesn't cover the full cost of our services, so any differences you'd need to cover. If your insurance is like most others, then you'll probably need to pay about fifty dollars out of pocket for each visit."

"That seems reasonable."

"We have a total of four spaces on any given night. Although they do fill up quickly, I don't think you'll ever have to wait more than three or four days for an appointment from when you call us."

"Excellent."

"One final bit. We are trying to make a little bit more money to help defray our costs, so, um, could I interest you in purchasing a bathrobe branded with our logo on it?"

"I'd love it! How much?"

"Forty."

"You've got a deal."

"I'll leave a box with the receptionist, and you can pay her when you're ready to leave."

"Thank you."

"Now, if you'll just give me your headband, I'll leave you to get dressed. Please stop by the receptionist on your way out to make sure all of the paperwork is in order."

Beverly handed the doctor her headband and rubbed her forehead as she watched him wheel the machine out of her room and close the door.

She walked over to the sink to brush her teeth and told her reflection, "Yeah. I think I'm going to want to come back here."

 

Chapter 8

The next time they were together at work, Janie couldn't help but comment on Beverly's appearance. "Wow! That sleep clinic must've really helped you with your insomnia! You look great!"

"Thanks, and you're right. I really want to thank you for telling me about it."

"Don't thank me. Thank my brother."

"I will if I ever see him."

"He's actually going to come by at lunch today. He's got the day off and he said he wanted to get together with his favorite sister. I told him I was his only sister, but he insisted. So he'll be coming here and enjoying the lovely cafeteria food they offer us. Would you like to join us?"

"Sure! Why not?"

*****

When lunch rolled around, Janie got a call from her brother. "I'll meet you at the guard's desk. I'll be there in five minutes."

Janie and Beverly walked to the guard's desk where Janie's brother received a visitor's badge before the three of them continued to the company cafeteria.

"Bev, I'd like you to meet my brother, Roger. Roger, this is Beverly. She's the one who went to that sleep clinic."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Beverly." He shook her hand.

"Same here, Roger. You know... You look really familiar."

"Yeah. So do you..."

Beverly felt a slight flutter in her loins as she realized she had only seen him in a dream. A very vivid, sensual dream.



To Sleep, Perchance To Dream



As Karen began to climb up through the layers of unconsciousness which constituted what she assumed was a very deep REM sleep, the first thing she became aware of was the pain in her left hip. She tried, without moving, to remember anything which she might have done the previous day which could have been the cause of her discomfort. 

She remembered the Sambuca shots she had downed at the Parrot and she distinctly recalled a pleasant bottle of Merlot with dinner, although for some reason she couldn't quite put a face to her dining companion. Why did dinner remind her of olives? Karen didn't like olives, whether black or green.

Definitely green, the memory fragment somehow linked dinner with green olives. Who was that man? Karen could almost make out his face, but his image remained a shadow. She smiled to herself in the recesses of her mind, a rather hunky looking shadow, too. She almost remembered that she thought so last night, too. She distinctly recalled leaning over and brushing her left breast against his right upper arm last night at dinner. It was a ploy she'd used successfully many times before. After all, what was the point in lugging a pair of DDs around every day since puberty if you never used them to get what you wanted?

Grand Marnier! It was definitely the GM which she concluded was the cause of the throbbing in her head, but how, she wondered, could that have contributed to her hip's soreness?

Of rapidly escalating immediacy was the awareness that she was getting at least chilly, if not downright cold. Her mind roamed to the various parts of her body hoping for some area of warmth which she hoped might represent a blanket. With a blanket she could pull it up to better shield her from what she now realized was a very cold room. Finding none, she allowed herself to swim up a layer or two closer to interacting with a day she was not looking forward to.

"Oh!" she thought as she realized that the pain was simply her hip's protest against the particularly hard surface upon which she had been sleeping. That which she had assumed to be her bed was in reality, she now knew, a concrete floor. This realization was far enough outside the framework of her normal experience that she began to apply sufficient pressure to her hands so as to push herself into a sitting position.

It was at this point that Karen discovered her hands were bound with duct tape. She sighed and mumbled barely above a whisper, "And the hits just keep on coming." Suddenly she remembered, "My panties! I had just reached under the table in the restaurant and removed my black lace thong and was putting them in his pocket when my tit brushed against his arm. He told me to remove my panties so he could get at my pussy!" In the restaurant?

Now it was her bladder's turn to protest in a manner which although now mild she knew would rapidly grow in immediacy. She forced her eyes open and processed the incoming data which seemed to indicate she was sharing a stark windowless room with a large number of cardboard boxes emblazoned with the legend "Smithfield Van Lines" and a single sixty watt Sylvania bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. Her brain rebelled against the large size of the boxes reasoning that because of their names they should be more...ham-sized.

Ham! Olives! She had taken the olives off her salad and put them on a saucer. Her date had said something about hating waste and had told her to remove her panties so he could insert the olives inside of her! Her hands flew to her jeans and even though she was bound she was able to unzip her jeans and insert a finger between her labia. Nope! No olives!

The room was definitely not, she concluded, her dorm room. She hoped her anthropology paper was still in her room but she was mildly frightened that she might have had it with her in the bar and if so she had no idea where it might be. That paper represented 2/3 of her grade! Wait a minute! If she was hanging in the Parrot it would have been after class and she would have been in her jeans and tank top. When she was in the Prime Rib she was wearing her black cocktail dress. Now she was back in her jeans. Sounds like a lot of changing!

She also wondered in passing where her shoes and bra might have gotten to. With those enormous tits of hers she rarely went anywhere without support, and the concrete was damn cold under her bare feet. The door opened and a slim man, clad in a ski mask, came in and placed a tray on the boxes. She called out to him, "Excuse me, what the Hell is going on here?" He whipped around and backhanded her across her cheek. It knocked her back on her ass. He went to the door and let himself out. 

It hadn't required a key so she went to the door but found it to be locked from the outside. She went to the tray. It contained a crystal glass, a pitcher of what looked like ice water, and an empty pitcher with a post-it which read "urine". Karen dropped trou and squatted. She doubted whether she'd ever pee in a Baccarat pitcher again. She buttoned her jeans and poured herself a drink. She almost choked. "Vodka!" She sighed, "...just keep on comin'." She drank the entire glass.

Karen forced her face into a wry grin as she thought, "I've GOT to start going home with a better class of boys!" She lined up four of the boxes, stretched out, and tried to get back to sleep.



To Sleep, Perchance To Dream Ch. 02



SOME OF KAREN'S QUESTIONS ARE ANSWERED

The first story in the 'Karen' series, 'To Sleep, Perchance To Dream' left our heroine in a warehouse, locked in a room with no windows.

Karen's 'morning after' included her standard morning hangover with the addition of discovering a few missing articles of clothing.

Her only human contact was with a ski-masked stranger who brought her a pitcher of Vodka and a second empty pitcher in which to pee. Baccarat, no less! He not only did not speak to her, but when questioned he instantly backhanded Karen, knocking her down.

Karen's reaction to her state of captivity and harsh treatment seemed to be one of curiosity and mild interest, but not alarm.

--

Karen heard a key in the lock of the door to her new quarters so she sat up. The ski-masked man was back. He walked over to her and handed her a small envelope made of heavy rag paper. 

Karen looked up at him and said, "Well if it isn't my old friend the downhill racer! Beat up any women lately?"

He said nothing but returned to the door and reached into the hall for something. His hand reappeared holding a blue dress and matching heels. Karen couldn't recognize the designer, but she could tell that the frock represented serious money.

Karen opened the envelope and found a folded invitation. She opened it and read the impeccable script.

Karen Dear, Please accept my invitation to lunch with me. I apologize for the last minute invitation but since I know you have no other plans and aren't going anywhere else, I'm hoping you'll accept. My servant will assist you in any way to prepare for our 'date'. It is at your disposal. If you feel compelled to speak to it, simply address it as 'Servant' as it has no other name.

The note was unsigned.

Karen spoke, albeit in a low tone as she was only addressing herself, "Curiouser and curiouser!"

She looked to the door. Servant was just standing, not looking at her, but waiting. She shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, servant, at least my sweet ass will be out of this fuckin' cold room."

Servant turned and began walking down the hall. Karen followed. As she glanced over her surroundings Karen realized that the structure was less a warehouse and more a huge barn. The wall to her left was lined with doors leading to more storage rooms like she had spent the night in, but across the room was a line of empty horse stalls. The loft above her was filled with bales of hay.

Servant opened a door at the end of the row and Karen discovered a tack room beyond which was a large bathroom. A gang shower, three toilets and a bidet were separated from the gleaming freshly oiled leather of the tack by only a 30" tall half wall topped with glass.

Servant hung the dress on a hook and went into the bath area to turn on the shower. Karen protested when Servant began to unbutton Karen's jeans.

"Hold on buddy, this I can do for myself." Karen pulled her top off and as it slid over her head she realized how much either the shirt or her body stank. She pushed down her jeans and had her fingers hooked in her thong when she remembered Servant. She looked up and saw the Servant had already undressed and was in the shower, soaping up a pair of washcloths. What startled Karen most, however was the fact that Servant wasn't a slim man, but a rather nicely built woman! Shrugging, she stepped out of her panties and entered the shower.

Karen reached for the bar of soap but was quickly stopped by Servant who was shaking her head 'no' and wagging her finger. Karen would have preferred a shower with soap but the hot water felt so good to her she just shut her eyes and turned her face up to the cascading stream. Servant took Karen's hand and motioned her to sit on the slatted teak bench. She then filled her palm with shampoo and started rubbing it into Karen's hair. What Karen expected to be a quick shampoo turned into a fifteen minute scalp and neck massage. Karen groaned, "I'm supposed to be getting ready for lunch so you'll have to stop what you're doing sometime in the next five hours, mmmm!" 

Servant grabbed a hand sprayer and rinsed the shampoo out of Karen's hair before applying a generous amount of conditioner and rubbing that in. Servant then had Karen rise and stand with her arms at her sides. The two cloths Karen had seen Servant soaping up were, as she could now see, terrycloth gloves.

Servant began soaping up Karen's shoulders and worked its way down Karen's left arm. Then, standing in front of her Servant raised Karen's arms and scrubbed her armpits, working her way across her collarbones, down onto her breasts, and between her legs. Servant took particular care to clean Karen's pussy and ass.

The next thing Karen became aware of was the pair of lips licking and nibbling her labia. She almost lost her balance the first time Servant's tongue invaded her. She sat back down on the teak and Servant's tongue hardly missed a beat.

Karen had quickly figured out that her role in this whole process was simply to allow herself to be done. Ordinarily, she would have dug her heels in and demanded some independent course of action, but it was rather nice allowing herself to be, done, to have someone else take total control. Her pussy was dripping as Servant gently sucked her clit...

For now, however, all Karen wanted was to know what was going on. She gently stopped Servant's ministrations short of her finish line. Karen couldn't ever remember doing that before.

After Servant had bathed and dried her, Karen was ready for whatever should come; at least she thought she was. Servant led her to a make-up table, had her sit down and started working on her face. Karen asked, "If you could tell me where the hair dryer is I could..."

Servant shook her head no and started combing Karen's hair under a dryer. Karen looked in the mirror and thought, "I never would have picked that color eye shadow but I have to admit, it looks really good on me." Servant put the blue shoes on Karen's feet and held the blue frock for her to step into. She hadn't been offered any underwear options.

Karen was then led down the hall and out of the barn. As she followed Servant she allowed her eyes to look over the estate. The home and barns were certainly grand but what most impressed her were the fastidiously manicured grounds. It had been Karen's observation that the first symptom of the once mighty who'd fallen on hard times was an untended landscape. Whoever owned this place wasn't short of cash!

Servant led her into the main house through a side patio door which led them into what was ostensibly a foyer, but looked to Karen suspiciously like a gallery of equestrian art. The walls were adorned with paintings ranging from old English hunt scenes to a magnificent horse portrait. Karen immediately surmised that the muscular near-black filly with the white star and tiny feet had to be Barbara and Stuart Janney's legendary Ruffian. 

The center of the 20 by 30 foot room was occupied by a life-sized bronze of a horse and jockey in full gallop. Karen didn't immediately recognize the horse, but as she walked around the bronze she saw the delicate tracing of an "H" in a triangle on the Jockey's silks and knew the horse had to be Seabiscuit.

Servant had been patiently waiting for Karen. Karen asked her, "Do you know any of the history of these magnificent champions?"

"No, I'm sorry, Mistress, but I don't know nearly as much about thoroughbreds as I should."

Karen pointed to the large painting. "I've got a book about that wonderful filly. I could lend it to you if you like."

"I'm sorry, Mistress, I can only accept gifts from my Master, but thank you for offering." The two walked on toward the dining room.

Karen wasn't really on board with this Master-Mistress nonsense but no one had asked her her opinion and she wasn't volunteering anything at this point. Besides, she was a little busy right then counting chairs. Wow! Fourteen chairs on a side, two sides and one on each end...seating for 30 at the table!

There was a slim girl with short blonde hair waiting at the head of the table. She was wearing a tuxedo and standing in a pose reminiscent of a military "at ease" posture; legs spread apart and hands held behind her back. She was glancing toward Karen as Servant led her to a seat to the right of the head of the table.

Karen had not yet reached her seat when a door in the opposite wall opened and a man briskly walked in. Karen recognized him as the man she had been at the Prime Rib with. He was the man who put the green olives in her pussy. Brian, his name is Brian!

Brian held her chair for her and she sat. "Thank you Brian."

He smiled as he went to the head of the table. "Oh, so you remember me."

"The sight of you made me flash on the olives, and after that, yes, a few pieces fell into place."

Brian smiled again. It was a powerful weapon; Karen began to feel more than a little heat deep within her. Brian continued, "I wasn't sure how hungry you'd be so the kitchen's prepared for either a light brunch or something a bit more elaborate. I, for one, am having Eggs Benedict, grapefruit juice and coffee."

"That sounds lovely, I'll have the same." The tuxedoed woman bowed and left for the kitchen.

Brian said, "First of all, about late last night, I wanted to apologize for the unforgivable behavior of that servant which struck you. It was completely unacceptable and rest assured that the offending young woman has been severely punished and will no longer be in service here."

"She didn't really hurt me, so I wouldn't be too harsh with her. If this young lady is 'Servant', what was the other's name?"

"As you're no doubt aware, the origins of many of today's names began with the job of the person. Millers were known as Miller, carpenters were Carpenter, and so on; here we use the same system. Her name was Servant, as her function was to look after and protect you from doing harm to yourself. When she lost her function this new Servant was assigned to you. Yesterday her name was Groom, as she took care of several of the horses."

"And therefore around here Brian becomes Master."

"It's functional."

"So who am I?"

"You're not part of our little community so your name is still Karen Jacobs. Your parents are still Donald and Elaine, your home is still ostensibly Larchmont, and you're still a sophomore at the University."

Karen was surprised. "You seem to know a lot about me."

"Oh, I know a lot more than those minor details. I know practically everything about you. I know you were offered a full academic scholarship but because you were too lazy to fill out the paperwork accepting it, it was subsequently withdrawn. I know that you sporadically apply yourself to your studies and trust to a remarkable intelligence to keep academic failure at bay. I know that you haven't had a boyfriend since Robbie Banner in the ninth grade, preferring a succession of one night stands.

Brian leaned forward, "Unless you count Jeff Naylor as a boyfriend. He's made eight 'dates' with you this year, but his idea of a date is to bring you back to Alpha Chi to be passed around from room to room like an interoffice memo. I believe you set the house record by fucking 37 of the brothers and their guests one weekend.

Let's see! I know that you were sufficiently down on yourself after that weekend that you jumped a train to Albany to visit your favorite cousin Carrie. You and Carrie have always been there for each other in the past.

The only problem is that you never made it to Carrie's! A commuter in the train station mistook you for a 'working girl' and offered you $300 for a fuck in his hotel. You stayed the night with him and caught the next train back to school.

I know that the last time you went to bed sober was 34 days ago when you had a bad chest cold and never went out to party.

Oh, wonderful our food has arrived!" He leaned toward Karen as if he was sharing a secret with her, "Talking always makes me hungry."

Karen was numb. She knew all the individual things he had said were true, but she'd never faced them all together as had just happened. She could feel the tears in her eyes as she said, "So you figured you'd kidnap the whore so you could have a convenient pussy?"

Brian reached out and brushed a tear from Karen's cheek with his thumb. "Karen, Karen, Karen; if all I'd wanted was your pussy I could have had you in the restaurant men's room. If you can recall, you asked to be taken there.

Furthermore, I didn't 'kidnap' you; you begged to come home with me."

"So why did I wind up locked in a cell in the barn?"

"The door to your room was locked so you couldn't wander off and hurt yourself, and although it pains me to have to say this, your room was in the barn because only people sleep in my home and you don't quite qualify in your present state."

Karen couldn't look at his face. "If you don't want to fuck me and don't even consider me to be a person, why am I here?"

Brian leaned back in his chair and continued looking at Karen in silence until she looked up into his face. "As you obviously know by now, I've invested quite a bit of time and money trying to figure out what makes you tick. You originally caught my eye when you were an incoming freshman."

He leaned forward and took her hand. "You have all the ingredients to be an extraordinary woman, yet for some reason you've chosen this self-destructive path for your life. You're bright, you can be quite charming, and you're an incredibly beautiful and sexy woman. You just don't like yourself very much.

By the way, speaking of bright..." He reached his hand backward without looking. Servant handed him Karen's anthropology paper.

"If I'm not mistaken you fail your course if this isn't turned in by 2 p.m. I'll see that you're driven to campus in time to turn it in. I've read it, by the way, and I think you give Dr. Leakey more credit than he deserves."

Karen smiled for the first time. "Yeah but the professor thinks Leakey walks on water so I was playing to a grade."

"I thought so.

Why are you here? You're here because I want to offer you a life line. I'm not your shrink so I don't care why you started disrespecting yourself. I just want to help you to realize the potential that you were born with, the potential you've chosen to squander."

Karen didn't break eye contact. "And how are you going to accomplish that?"

"By taking over for a while and making your decisions for you. For this all to work you must admit to yourself that you've been doing a shitty job of running your life and that it's about time you hired a professional to run it for you. Someone who can instill discipline where there was only chaos. Someone who can ultimately give you back your self-respect."

Karen kept watching his eyes. Over the years she had gotten pretty good at separating the people who were sincere from the bullshitters. This guy believed that he could do what he said he could.

"And you're the man who can accomplish this?"

Brian answered softly, "Yes I can.

But look at the time! Your paper's going to be late if you don't hurry. Servant has already put your things in the car and Driver will take you to McArthur Hall to turn in your paper. Think about what you want to do. After you've submitted the paper Driver will either take you back to your apartment, or, if you'd like to pursue this discussion, back here for more conversation. Either way, consider the frock a gift. That shade of blue makes your eyes almost electric."

Brian looked at her plate. The food had not been touched. He shook his head. "If you do come back I'll have to see you get something proper to eat! You need fuel for that engine." As they stood he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

--

As Karen traveled in the back of the limo back to campus she distilled their entire conversation to two words; Master and discipline. She had a pretty good idea that this transformation involved the loss of her independence. She would wind up with the same status as Servant or Driver. She had a thought and rolled down the window between herself and the chauffer. "Driver, are you allowed to talk to me?"

"Yes, Mistress, the Master told me to truthfully answer any of your questions except those concerning my former identity."

"How long have you been with...Master?"

"Two years this February, Mistress."

"How did you meet him?"

"I had been turning tricks in Manhattan and one John got kind of rough. He beat me up, took back his money and threw me unconscious from the car on 8th Avenue. Master's car had been following us and picked me up immediately. I was taken to the clinic at Master's house."

"Are you happy at the Estate?"

Driver hesitated before answering. "I wish you could see my face to show how strongly I feel about this. I ran away from home at sixteen with a boy who brought me to the City. He took off in less than three weeks and left me with an unpaid rent bill on the rattrap we were renting week-to-week. He'd taken my last $200 when he left. The landlord was willing to give me two more days to come up with the rent in exchange for a fuck. I was turning tricks that very night. I had a pimp by that weekend.

If Master hadn't taken me from that life I'm sure I'd be dead today."

"But didn't you just trade one Master for another? Your life is still being run by some guy!"

The car pulled up in front of McArthur Hall. Driver turned and looked Karen in the eyes. "My first MAC decided to move to L.A. and sold his stable to another pimp the week before my 'accident'. Prior to that I'd done some speed and a little coke but drugs were never much of a problem for me. My new guy believed in drugs as a training tool. His other four girls were all crack-heads and I'd been told repeatedly that anytime I wanted some I could have it for free because I was 'special'.

If I'd stayed with him I would have been a crack-whore in a matter of weeks. With Master I'm now one year away from my G.E.D. and Master insists I have a twelve credit college course of study selected by next month.

When Lewis told me who to fuck he did it for money and he didn't care if I lived or died.

When I began my training with the Master he also occasionally told me who to fuck. But every fuck aided me in my acceptance of the discipline. I was never hurt and you can believe whatever your want but I believe he sincerely cares about me and my future."

Karen sighed and said gently, "But Driver aren't you just his slave?"

Driver answered with passion and tears in her eyes. "Yes! and it's the best thing that could have happened to me.

Do you want to know my greatest fear? Master has told me that once my education and training is finished I must begin a life out in the 'real' world. I fall asleep every single night trying to think of some way I can convince him to let me stay.

In my experience the 'real' world sucks...Mistress." Driver turned back to the windshield. "You'd better hurry Mistress, it's almost two o'clock. I'll wait here."

Karen drew more than a few stares in her blue dress and she left her paper in the Professor's "In" box. As it was getting close to the deadline he was at his desk with his feet up waiting for 2 p.m.

He said, "Damn, Miss Jacobs you just cost me twenty dollars. I bet Professor Kuhn that you wouldn't make it in time. I was sure that by the end of the week you'd be on your knees under my desk trying to convince me not to fail you. Oh well, maybe next time."

Karen was shocked. "Professor, why would you say such a thing? That's horribly cruel."

"Why do you say that? That's how you got to keep your 'A' last year when you forgot to turn in your term project. Kuhn mentioned that you fucked your way into an 'A' in Sanderson's course also."




To Sleep, Perchance To Dream Ch. 02



Karen suddenly remembered that what he'd said was true! She'd completely blanked it out of her memory until he reminded her.

Karen was numb when she got to the car. "Take me to my apartment, Driver."

"Yes, Mistress."

When they pulled up in front Karen said, "I just want to run up and get something. I'll be going back to the estate."

"Yes, Mistress."

Karen took one thing from the apartment and ran back to the car. When they got back to the estate she was shown to a room which would have done any cocktail lounge proud. A long mahogany bar with about a dozen stools and about ten little cocktail tables. Behind the bar was a 450 gallon saltwater Reef tank with a half dozen large Tangs and many thriving corals. Brian was sitting at one of the tables with another gentleman talking baseball.

The two men stood as Karen approached. Brian said, "Karen, I'm so pleased you've returned. Karen, this is Mr. Scarpelli, a business associate of mine. Bart, this lovely flower is Karen."

Karen shook hands. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all! We're done talking business and would welcome some new blood in the conversation."

The young lady in the tuxedo came over. Brian asked Karen, "Would you like a water, perhaps some iced tea?"

"White wine, please."

Brian held up his hand. "Karen if you would do me a big favor? Until our business is discussed would you mind keeping it non-alcoholic? I'd prefer you with a clear head."

Karen was about to argue, since the men were drinking beers, but said, "Iced tea would be lovely, please."

When the tea was served Brian said, "In fact, Bartender why don't you take Mr. Scarpelli to his room and help him unpack?

Bart, Bartender will see to all your needs. I'm sure Karen and I can rough it without her services. Why don't we meet by the pool at 7:30?"

Karen could see Scarpelli mentally undressing the young blonde as he said, "Great idea, Brian I'm sure we can find something to do to fill the afternoon." As he put his arm around the girl he put his hand in Bartender's panties and grabbed her ass.

After they were gone from earshot Brian muttered, "Pig!"

Karen responded, "If he's such a pig, why did you give him Bartender to fuck?"

"Two reasons, but most importantly the fact that he's a big client of mine and he could become a lot bigger.

The second reason is that Bartender had no advance hint that she'd be servicing the man. She needs more training in being able to anticipate situations and to be ready to please at all times.

You've brought a package! Is it a present for me?"

Karen started to open the bag in her hand which she had taken from her apartment. "In a way! When Servant was bringing me to lunch I paused at the painting of Ruffian in the foyer. I asked Servant if she knew the history of the filly and she said she wanted to learn more. I offered her a book but she told me she was forbidden gifts from anyone but you.

Anyhow, if you would indulge me I'd like to give you this book in the hopes that you could, in turn, give it to her."

Brian inspected the book. "Oh, Jane Schwartz' book! It's a wonderful read."

He pulled a phone from his pocket and direct-connected a number. "Servant, please come to the lounge immediately.

I'm impressed that you recognized the filly from the painting! I always thought the artist made her look larger than life."

Karen responded with a sigh, "Maybe because she was!"

Brian's face took on a wistful look. "That she was."

Servant came into the room. Brian looked her up and down. He said, "Servant, I'm rather disappointed in you today."

"Yes, Master?"

You were told to look after Mistress Karen and help prepare her to come to brunch. Instead you slowed her down by taking liberties with her. Did Mistress indicate in any way that she wanted you to eat her pussy"

"No, Master."

"Once you began to do so, uninvited, what was her response?"

"She stopped me, Master."

"You were to please her and look after her and instead you took liberties and saw to your own needs. Did you enjoy sucking her clit?"

"Very much so, Master."

Brian tossed her the book. "Your education about the horses is woefully inadequate. Read this and if Mistress is still around tomorrow and if she doesn't consider you a complete waste of her time, you will tell her about what you've read."

He turned to Karen. "Do you want me to replace her as your attendant? If you like, I'd consider selling her to a Turkish brothel."

For some strange reason she couldn't explain, Karen played along. "No, don't replace her. I was thinking that perhaps I wouldn't have stopped her eating me if her technique was a little better. Maybe, if I'm not too tired, I might train her in proper oral sex technique."

Karen winked at Servant when Brian had turned away. "And after she's gotten better at eating pussy, maybe we'll have time to discuss the book. But I'd do that only if I saw a marked improvement."

Servant replied, "Oh, thank you so much, Mistress. I'll try to be the very best student."

Brian dismissed the girl and turned back to Karen. "Now what are we going to do with you? You've been here barely 30 minutes and you're taking it upon yourself to order my slaves around?

I hope you realize that if you enter service that all comes to an end. Your status will be that of a rank beginner and you would be dealt with rather harshly if you display such hubris again."

"I realize that."

"We'll discuss this at length later, but right now I have a request of you. I can't order you because we haven't finalized our arrangements. Think of it as a gesture of good faith."

Karen looked him in the eyes as she said, "Anything, Master."

Brian smiled. "We'll see. In the meantime I'd like you to take the elevator up to the third floor, room 317, and join in Bartender's little party with Scarpelli. Fuck him blind."

Karen didn't need to think about it; in fact, it was kind of nice not to have to think. She just said, "Yes, Master."

She took the elevator to the third floor and let herself into Scarpelli's room. He was on his back on the bed and Bartender was riding his cock. She looked close to cumming. Karen slipped out of her shoes and blue dress as she walked over to the bed.

Karen noticed Bartender's trim, delightful body. Pert ass and B/C tits which had never held a pencil. The aureoles were huge and puffy. Karen felt like a cow with her DDs.

Scarpelli, however, fell in instant lust over them. As Bartender continued to ride his cock he pulled Karen down to kiss her as he mauled her breasts. Karen thrust her tongue in his mouth and started attacking him. She withdrew her lips and swung her leg over his face as she lowered her pussy onto his mouth.

Scarpelli's technique wasn't bad! It surprised Karen that his tongue could tease as well as caress and suck. She'd expected him to be more of a 'thrust and stab' kind of sex partner.

Bartender had been cumming for the last twenty seconds. She put her hand on Karen's shoulder and said, "Mistress, why don't we switch. The gentleman needs to taste my cum."

Karen switched places with Bartender and was pleased to see the size of Scarpelli's cock. Not so big as to become a project, yet large enough that Karen was sure she'd have an enjoyable afternoon. Bartender had mounted Scarpelli facing Karen and as he tongued her she started to cum again. She leaned toward Karen and grabbed her breasts and sucked her nipples. She supported herself with one hand on Scarpelli's hip and with the other she began to rub Karen's clit.

Karen felt Scarpelli's thrusts take on that particular frenzy which told her he wouldn't last much longer. Between that and Bartender's expert rubbing of her clit, Karen's pussy started contracting and she began cumming all over the wonderful cock. 

The collective juices of the three of them couldn't soak into the sheets fast enough so there was a not inconsiderably puddle between Scarpelli's legs. He lay on his back with a girl in each arm cuddled against his chest. Each of his hands cupped a breast and the two girls' tongues were drawing lazy circles around his nipples.

Although Scarpelli couldn't see it, the two girls' eyes were locked on each other, making promises for sometime later. Karen sighed.



To Sleep Perchance To Dream Of...



To Sleep Perchance To Dream Of Cuckolding!

Carol was a mousy woman of 38 and a virgin when she married at twenty. This was the result of strict religious upbringing at home and school.

Her mother taught her that sex was dirty, only necessary for procreation. Carol had three brothers and her mother boasted that as soon as she'd had a daughter she had never let her husband have sex again. Her mother felt she had already done her duty and didn't want more children. 

Carol had not been allowed boyfriends then her mother informed her the church had picked a man for her to marry. He was Tom the son of the preacher twenty years older than Carol at forty. He'd been the black sheep of the family and gone off gambling, drinking and cavorting with 'loose women'. 

Her mother taught her not to encourage sex just to lay ridged and let her husband put his vile seed in her. However as it was her duty to have children for the church she submitted to what he wanted.

It was a complete shock to her when he pushed his four inch ridged cock into her pussy. She was dry and it hurt badly as he broke her hymen, worse still he only managed four thrusts before shooting his cum in her. 

She lay back and was pleased it was finished hoping she'd get pregnant immediately so she didn't have to do this 'awful thing' again until the next child was needed. 

Her husband Tom didn't just do it he fondled her 44dd breasts and sucked her nipples. He tried to kiss her vagina and get her to suck his penis but 'of course' she wouldn't let him, it would be sinful. She didn't get pregnant and only had occasional sex with her husband refusing always to use contraception. She was annoyed at not being impregnated but relived when he moved into the spare bedroom and ignored her. 

Carol busied herself with churchwomen's affairs where she talked to her mother and her three sisters who were all as sexually inhibited as her. However her sister in laws had several kids each by now making her feel left out. 

Then her husband Tom was caught stealing from work, he lost his job and was disowned by his father. 

Her husband began spending his time in the betting shops and getting drunk at the pub every night. They had no money, the landlord was threatening to throw them out and the betting shop owner was going to kill him unless he paid off the not inconsiderable debt.

Then unexpectedly each night Tom started bringing her a cup of cocoa in bed. The hot drink soothed her and she drifted off to sleep. She was happy as she thought it meant he had accepted that there was more to marriage than sex, after all he was nearly sixty. 

It was then she started to have sexy dreams! She dreamt the first night that her fat landlord and her husband were talking. Her understanding of what they said was wavering but her husband seemed to be saying she is out do what you want! 

Blearily she thought that the fat landlord had stripped of his clothes and was leaning over her. She tried to move but she was completely immobile, the fat hands were eerily caressing her breasts. Her nipples she noticed with amazement were elongating and she felt nice when she should be appalled. 

How it had happened she didn't know but her flannelette nightdress had disappeared and the fat landlord was licking her pussy. She wanted to squirm with embarrassment but instead it was making her wet. She shuddered when she saw his stiff cock it was double Toms size at least eight inches long and fat as a coke can. There is no way he'd be able to get all that in my pussy, she reasoned in a detached sort of way. My husband will stop him, she thought but mistily she saw in the mirror Tom naked and rubbing his own smaller hard cock. 

Then the fat landlord was trying to force his huge thing into her, it wouldn't go she knew that. But she was getting wetter and it was edging in inch by inch. With each bit of extra penetration she felt better and weirder.

Now she had the illusion that he was fully in her and had got a rhythm going, grunting and groaning and going red in the face as he did so. He kept thrusting into her for ages grabbing her tits and slobbering his fat lips and his tongue over and into her mouth. 

She knew she was in a trance but she tried to throw him off her to stop the imagined violation but it was useless. Now she was feeling very odd, what was happening, was she about to die?

But no for the first time in her life she felt her whole body spasm in a crashing orgasm that had every muscle jerking uncontrollably. This was not death or hell it was heaven. The fat man could not hold back either and she could feel the big cock spew six times inside her. She felt satisfied for the first time in her life and was sorry when the dream fat man took his cock out and shuffled off. 

Relaxed more than she had ever been, immediately she fell asleep. In the morning she was still confused but remembered her dream vividly as if it had really happened. Then she felt her pussy it was sticky and she hadn't got her nightly on, very strange?

She called to her husband and said did we do anything last night? Don't you remember we had sex Carol! That was it; Tom had sex with her while she was asleep although why she had dreamt of fucking that horrible fat landlord she didn't know. 

The next night she was grateful for the hot drink her husband gave her. Soon she felt woozy and slipped into a light doze. She started to dream again, this time she dreamt Tom had that slimly betting shop owner Zimmer with him. She couldn't stand the bastard he undressed her with his eyes and leered at her every time they met.

The dream sequence went on and she half heard Zimmer threatening Tom, "You have to pay me my money but while I'm waiting I'll take my interest each week from your wife. What did he mean, I haven't got any money to give him? 

Then through the fog she realized the slimy man was naked with an obscenely long thin cock and he was taking her nighty off. She didn't want anything to do with this man she hated him. But then Tom was holding her legs open and she felt the bulk of Zimmer crushing her. She smelt the bad breath from his mouth as it fastened on hers. 

Now his skinny cock head parted her cunt lips and he lunged forward into her. It was thin so there was little resistance but so long it took her breath away. She felt his foot long shaft crash against parts of her inside that had never been reached before. 

Zimmer grunted and groaned and plunged again and again into her at great speed, she could feel her resistance going, she wanted him now. She heard a woman's voice in the distance screaming fuck me hard, do me! With surprise she vaguely realized it was herself. 

She hallucinated that her loins were on fire with her passion and she climaxed even harder than her last dream. Her whole body squirmed with contractions and didn't stop; wave after wave of sexual pleasure swept over her making her body jump continuously. 

Now she felt Zimmer once so hated but now her lover filling the condom within her and Tom shooting his jiz into her mouth at the same time. Zimmer pulled out, but against her normal inclinations she dreamt she was trying to keep his cock in her. She hallucinated that he was telling Tom he would have his wife every week till he paid up and he could take as long as he wanted, as she was a great fuck. 

In the morning Carol was lying naked again and felt guilty for having such lewd dreams. But she was more fulfilled than she'd ever been and was secretly hoping she'd dream of sex more often. 

Some nights she just slept but others when Tom brought her a drink she had her sexy dreams again. Now sometimes she dreamt Tom brought a succession of men into her bedroom to fuck her. Each time she had the feeling each one was giving her husband fifty pounds. All the men wore condoms and when one had fucked another took his place. Most nights now she imagined she had at least six cocks in her pussy, she loved her dreams now!

Every week she dreamt her fat landlord did her and the betting shop manager Zimmer stuck his cock up her arse until he came. The odd thing was that she seemed to know all the men who were her dream fuckers, of course she did or she wouldn't have been able to dream about them she reasoned. 

To start with she daydreamed they were mostly drunken men she had seen at the pub, but then she fantasized about church going men doing her. She now always slept naked and wanted her dream lovers to take her in any way they could. 

One night she was surprised to find herself imagining it was the eighty-five year old pastor of the church, her farther sticking his knob up her cunt. She even fanaticised he'd paid Tom his fifty pounds and seemed embarrassed at first, but really got his moneys worth by fucking her cunt, bum and mouth before he left. 

Another night she couldn't believe it when she dreamt that it was her father fucking her. He was very quick cumming and said sorry when he'd finished. She had heard other girls say they fancied their fathers. When she was awake she thought it was a disgusting idea, but in her dreams she wanted him to shag her again and again.

The very next night she dreamt her three brothers were fucking her at the same time. One she visualized fucking her pussy the second her anus and the third her mouth. They all came in her then changed round until each one had spunked into their condoms in each of her orifices.

Carol was surprised they could all come so many times so quickly, but it was only a dream after all. Oddly even her brothers seemed to be paying Tom fifty pounds each and he was telling her that her cunt was making them rich.

Oddly when she was awake Tom said he was winning money now and they hadn't any debts any more. They bought a new car and furniture particularly a huge king sized bed. 

They even got a pretty black girl as a maid to do the work. Carol was happy now Tom was affectionate and must be fucking her when she was asleep as she often found filled condoms on the floor.

Carol pondered about her dreams but although she knew they were wrong she couldn't wait to have her soothing drink and meet her succession of dream lovers. 

What she couldn't understand was that when she went to the pub or the church she was far more popular with the men folk. Before they had ignored the frumpy woman she had always been. Now they smiled at her and often touched her arm or back affectionately. She giggled inwardly thinking if only they knew I'd been dreaming of them having sex with me.

Her dreams went on regularly, one night she dreamt she had three big black men fuck her in succession. All had big cocks but the thirds was a real monster, fifteen inches long and round as her arm. She came continually with the baseball-sized knob being thrust up her. Oddly she didn't recognize the three black men so they must be figments of her imagination. 

Over the months she dreamed of being shagged by Chinese and Indian men that she'd seen in the local takeaways. She dreamt she took the cocks of huge Scandinavian looking blond men, muscle men and even very old men in there eighties and nineties. 

She imagined skinny wrinkled old men shagging her; some had difficulty walking but not in getting their cocks hard and doing her. She knew she loved the variety of cocks she'd dreamt she'd had, from the tiny to the massive, in every one of her holes. 


Usually she dreamt of them fucking her singly but sometimes she imagined them doing her in groups. Irrespective of who they were or how many they all gave her orgasms, though she knew it was just in her mind! 

She still dreamt of all the men using condoms, it was possibly because of guilt feelings she reasoned. She wondered if she could dream of them doing her bare back and making her pregnant. The trouble is she dreamt she wanted them all to knock her up; the fat landlord, Zimmer the betting shop manager the blacks, her father and brothers, she wanted multiple babies. 

Now her husband she dreamed was fucking the black maid in every position in plain view of her wile she fucked her own imagined lovers. I expect it's my guilt feelings she decided, so he's not left out of my thoughts. 

She had hallucinated about some men being rough with her body and others so gentle and caring, she liked the feeling of being used hard but also the tenderness that others gave her. 

One day she dreamt a young nerdy boy from the church came into her bed. Tom had laughed and said little David had just come through puberty and was such a shy virgin he needed to be broken in. 

The youngster didn't know what to do with his cock so Carol imagined she had put it in for him. She dreamt he only thrust twice before he came and was going to rush away in embarrassment. However Carol fanaticised that she'd sucked him hard again and let him have a second go. 

There was also a hallucination about a nice man John from the church who was nursing his wife who was in a coma after a car accident. He was so tender and kind with his lovemaking and Carol imagined him telling her he loved his wife and would have liked to have children but it wasn't to be. 

One night after Tom brought her the nightly drink and he'd left she knocked it over with her arm and spilled the liquid into the plant pot near the bed. She didn't tell her husband and dropped off to sleep immediately. 

Then she half woke but didn't open her eyes, she realized that Tom was talking to the maid. She froze when she took in what he was saying. Her husband said, "It's ok she's well drugged now, you can bring the first man up so she can pull her nightly train! What a silly cow she is, wondering why she never got pregnant she didn't realize I'd had the op before we married and I've been shooting blanks ever since!" 

Carol was horrified especially when her husband stuck his cock right up the black maids arse and started rutting at her. When she suddenly realized what had happened Carol was furious she wasn't dreaming at all, that bastard Tom had drugged her. My god he'd made her the town bike --- everybody rode her! 

What should she do, there was a pistol in the draw, she'd shoot Tom and the maid she must get her revenge. Then she thought killing him wouldn't be enough she must punish him more. 

As her rage at her husbands betrayal festered it dawned on her she'd got used to the idea of sex with multiple partners even if she had thought they were an illusion. She realized she had longed for what she thought were hallucinations of dozens of different cocks bringing her to shattering orgasms, so much so she didn't want to give her multiple lovers up.

But she must get even somehow and then she knew what she would do. That night was the same as usual, she fucked ten men but this time she was aware it was real and that she loved it! This time Carol didn't lie there like a rag doll she fucked the men back trying to get as much of their hard cocks in her as possible. 

Carol made her mind up she'd let one of these men get his moneys worth and knock her up. She decided it would be John as he wanted to father a baby and she would give it to him.

John came for his turn a few days later and luckily Tom was more interested in the black maid's pussy down the hall. John was mortified when Carol spoke to him and he realized she wasn't drugged. "Don't be silly John," Carol cooed, "you said you wanted to father a baby and I want to be a mother so we can help each other out. Will you fuck me hard without a condom and make me pregnant?" 

Of course his answer was yes and John had never had his cock go so hard before and been able to fuck for so long. Carol was screaming, "Shag your sperm into me John make me pregnant, give me your baby. She was cumming continuously with just the thought of conceiving. When John spunked six ropes of his seed up her cunt she swooned with pleasure, certain they had done the deed.

A week later she was late and she found out she was indeed pregnant, she'd fucked a lot of men since John had impregnated her but made sure they wore condoms. Searching around the house she found Toms stash of money £20,000 in all. She had no hesitation in taking it after all she'd earned it with her body. 

When she told Tom she was pregnant, that he was going to be a father. He couldn't admit he hadn't fucked her for over a year and had had the operation. He was also worried which of the hundreds of men was the father. It could be any of them the baby could be black or Asian after all he thought, how could he explain that away? 

John on the other hand was ecstatic, his poor wife had eventually died and they decided Carol should move away to a new country with him. Soon John and Carol had a little house by the sea in Croatia and were awaiting their new arrival. 

When she'd left her husband, he'd no source of income anymore and found out his stash of money had gone as well. He couldn't do anything without admitting how he'd got it. 

The landlord threw him out, as there was no money or payment in kind and the bookmaker had him beaten up because he couldn't pay his debts or the sexual interest, even the maid left him not wanting an old poor man.

In their Croatian hideaway Carol Snuggled down with John for a slow sensitive fuck. They both wanted more babies when the first was born so were happy. Revenge is sweet thought Carol, but can I live without several cocks a night?