3 comments/ 7039 views/ 0 favorites Vivid By: thewintersofaugust Bree was going crazy. Sanity wasn't her strong suit anyway, but normally she could channel it into creativity or restless energy or, at the very least, a long, abusive hour at the gym. But everything she tried failed to clear the cobwebs in her head. She wasn't even sure she could pin down why she felt like the world was spinning out of control. It wasn't: the bills were paid, the house was peaceful, and her husband was about to arrive home after what sounded like a good day at the office. Still she found herself staring blankly into nothing for long moments, or trailing off while doing some essential task. The makeup smear was the last straw. Bree deposited herself on the couch, buried her face in her hands, and wept. She cried until her head ached and her heart felt wrung out, then flopped over onto her cheek and stared at the blank TV screen until she drifted into a fitful nap. A key in the front door brought her awake, though she was too groggy to rise. She wondered if she should fix her inevitably disheveled appearance, maybe wipe off the makeup instead of adding to the new stain on the couch, but her energy level would not comply. So she kept staring until her husband came into the living room to set his bag down. Micah stood over her, bringing with him his special brand of deodorant, sweat and cool breath that drove Bree wild. Her pussy tightened with familiarity and longing, but she could barely raise her head. "What's wrong, pet?" Micah stretched out a hand and ruffled the hair sitting on her ear. "Bad day?" "No," Bree said. Micah waited a beat. She heard the half-smile, the affectionate exasperation, in his tone. "Then what?" "I don't know," she said, sing-song. "I hurt, kinda. Nothing makes sense. I'm tired but I can't sleep. If I were a hard drive I'd want you to reformat me." "But I like your partitions." He tickled the spot between her rib cage and her hip bone, and she managed to squirm. Micah squatted down beside her head and kissed her forehead, brushing her hair away from her face. "You're THIN32." He made sure the capital letters were clear in his voice. Despite everything, his playful voice reached out and tugged the corner of her mouth into a tiny smile. "Kiss-ass," she said, but didn't mean it. He took her hand. "C'mon." A tug. "C'mon! I can't reformat you without access to your slots." Bree oozed off the couch and flopped onto the floor, face in the carpet. "Mmmph." "Bree." Firm, unwavering, invigorating. "Get up." She obeyed, heaving herself to her feet and shooting a startled look at Micah. He wasn't the quietest person she knew by any means, and he loved to make nasty jokes and spin scathing commentary. But it was mostly for his audience's sake, and never in front of the people he was teasing. And when it came down to it, he was kinder and more open than most people she knew. Right now, though, there was little trace of that in his voice; he was the consummate commander, leaving no room for questions. But not quite, she thought as she twisted around the tight hallways and entered the bedroom. Underneath it, I hear him loving me. She sat down on the bed, turning around in time to see Micah walk in and close the door with a firm hand. His golden-green eyes were steely. "Hands and knees. On the floor. Now." "Micah," she started, but he crossed the room in one stride and clapped his hand over her mouth, so tight that when she tried to suck in her breath, she was sealed by his salty skin. "Enough. Don't speak again until I say. Nod if you understand." Bree bobbed her head, searching his face. The giver of orders. The man she strove to please over all others. His eyes burned into her. "Good girl." The fire flickered and she knew she had nothing to fear, before the flames roared back and he shoved her away. "Hands and knees." This time, she obeyed without hesitation. She gripped the carpet with her fingers and ground her bony knees down, willing her back to straighten as Micah tugged her pants down to her calves. In the reflection of the as-yet-unhung mirror sitting on the floor, she saw herself: silky hair wild about her face, makeup still smeared from sleep and tears, green eyes begging for sense to be made. Sense asserted itself on her ass: Micah's hand came down firmly across both cheeks, the slap resounding against the walls. Bree quivered but did not cry out, pursing her lips together. Micah brought his hand down again. Again. Until her whole ass pinkened and her wrists were trembling under the strain. She maintained her silence, and for the first time that day, a gleam of triumph was born in her eyes. She saw it in the mirror and found that she could draw a deeper breath. Micah's hands descended to the back of her neck and pulled her upright. He held her suspended for a moment, looking her up and down with rough assertion of his ownership. Bree was standing under her own power, but she felt like a kitten clenched, dangling, between the jaws of the lion. It took a few blinks, but she steadied her chin and gazed back at him courageously. At last, he nodded his approval and tossed her onto the bed. She sprawled and lay without moving, trying not to wince at the lump of quilt digging into her back. Micah retreated to the closet and rummaged around. He returned momentarily with one of her bandannas in hand, rolled up to a tube. He pushed the fabric between her lips and loosely knotted it behind her head. "Now," he said dangerously, right beside her ear, "not a sound. On your knees again." Bree's pussy was soaked; she felt a patch of cooled moisture on the quilt as she rolled over and presented Micah with her ass. He made it tingle by running his fingers along the sensitive skin, and where he had slapped her harder, he bent to kiss. Bree closed her eyes with every touch. The coiled springs in her shoulders began to loosen. He filled her without warning, grabbing her hipbones like handles and slamming into her. Bree bit down on the gag with all her might; she was leaking natural lube, but she had not been prepared for the sensuous violence of his descent into her and his cock worried at the back wall of her pussy. The pain was excruciatingly pleasurable. Micah slapped her on the cheek and leaned over her to grab her chin and twist her face up and to the side. "Look at me," he demanded, and Bree opened her eyes. His was a conqueror's face - her unstoppable Irish warrior, who never settled for no. The sum of her fantasies washed over her, flushing her to an insatiable heat. So often she had drifted into dreams dreaming of the highland soldier who came to take the peasant girl away. She gave herself over to the minutiae of their coupling as he shoved her away and resumed his unquenchable thrusting: His arms, thick with muscle, to protect and claim. The hairs on his corded legs making her soft skin rage as they pressed together, together, together. The chest that pillowed her when terror came in the night, always a barrel full of fervid love from which she was privileged to drink, now the impetus of his assertion over her. She drooled around the bandanna and tears slipped down her face. The bliss of powerlessness was unbearable. He slapped her once on each cheek and she clenched. His fingers closed around the knot of the bandanna and tugged her head up, up, back, leaning over so their faces were less than an inch away. "Tell me," he said, his voice shaking with the strain of keeping his orgasm at bay, "who you are." The question froze the scene. His words were crystals, delicately suspended in the air. They formed a bridge over the vast crevasse between her and clarity. "Yours," she breathed. "Again," he said. They were still frozen, their words locked out of time. "Yours," she said, stronger this time. "Your girl. Your property. Your slut, your servant, your lover." "Again!" His forearms were shaking now, but he clamped her jaw in his palm. His fingers squeezed down to the bone. Tears came. They were not the tears of earlier; those were self-pity and confusion. These were tears of certainty, of purity, of a braid of emotions she did not care to define. "I am yours," Bree said as the world fell into place and time began again. "Good girl," Micah said, and he too let go. "Now come." He arched his back and clenched his fists, disappearing into the higher plane of consciousness. Bree tightened and followed suit, her hot juices spattering the bedding, mingling with his cum in and on and around her. With his heat came a slow, overwhelming need to curl into him, be devoured by him. Slowly they unfolded. Micah kissed his way down her spine, lingering on each cheek of her reddened ass. Bree let her head fall, her sweaty forehead against the quilt. The exhaustion came flooding in, but her head was clear. "Tell me," Micah said, settling into the mattress beside her and untagling her hair with his fingers. The conqueror was gone, replaced by the comforter. "Do you understand?" "Understand?" The bridge he had just built her wobbled as she reached out to rest the tip of her finger on his nose. He smiled. "Understand why I did that." Bree nodded slowly. "It's a play on words, right? You gave me orders. But really, you gave me order." She scooted across the quilt until her lips were almost touching his. "You make my world make sense, Micah." "You make my world worthwhile, Bree," he said, and love made his eyes greener as he enfolded her in a hug that encompassed her entire world. Vivid Imagination I have quite the vivid imagination when I masturbate. I love to imagine that I'm making out with a beautiful, dark-skinned woman. I like to imagine us making out, kissing, fondling each other's breasts, and then stroking each other's pussies. I'd start masturbating by gently rolling my middle finger over the outside of my panties, just until I felt my clit stiffen while my other hand gently circles my soft nipples through my shirt. I'd imagine my lover's hands all over my body, and then, suddenly gripping my wrists, her jasmine-scented, warm, smooth body on top of mine, her legs between mine, her tits pressing into mine. Her smooth brown muscles are hard, yet silky. I'd imagine feeling the cool metal of handcuffs sliding around my wrists and clicking shut. When I tried to squirm and sit up, I found my feet tied together, too, and her slipping a blindfold over my eyes. By this time, I've already unbuttoned my shirt, removed my bra, and am circling my hard nipples with my fingers with one hand, caressing my stomach and the outside of my panties with the other. I imagine being turned over onto my stomach, and something shoved underneath me. It's a large, firm pillow, so that suddenly, my ass is in the air. I feel so suddenly prone, so vulnerable, yet so eager for the sensual exploration she has in store for me. She takes my bra off, and then begins to slowly peel down my wet panties. When they get to just below my ass, her hand swats my ass until it leaves a warm, stinging handprint. This makes my nipples hard, and I can suddenly feel wetness between my legs. By now, I've slid a hand into my panties, and have one hand still working on my nipples. I like to tease my own pussy slowly- no need to rush. I just lie back, spread my legs a little, and brush my fingers over my pussy lips, tracing them up and down, all the way over my vagina. When I first feel my pussy dampen, I rub a middle finger over my vagina, and then bring it to my mouth. I love to taste pussy juice, and the smell of arousal almost gets me drunk. I continue to fantasize about my lady lover binding me up as her own, then spanking my pink little ass, and now, I feel her untie, spread, and retie my legs. Soon, her tongue is plunging into my pussy, drooling over my hard, hot clit, and tracing my pussy lips with her tongue. Oh, to feel that sweet warm tongue wetting my gash down makes me squirm and moan, but she just keeps teasing me with her finger in my vagina, and her tongue over my clit. I want her to fuck me so bad. I snatch my panties off now, while I'm thinking of this, and with one hand, I spread the lips wide- with the other hand, I hold a small mirror up. I love to see it all hot and so flushed it's almost purple, wanting a good fucking. The sight of my hard clit and a slit so wet it's shiny and smeared up on my legs makes my legs tremble. In my fantasy-fuck, meanwhile, Lover Girl has been busy fussing with something for a few seconds, and I wonder what. Suddenly, a drop of freezing cold, slick liquid gushes down my ass crack, and I hear a lube bottle squirting it's contents onto my ass and pussy. Her expert hands smear it gently down my crack- I shiver thinking about this- and then her fingers work it into my pussy, then my anus, and oh, this almost makes me come- she smears it on my ass cheeks and thighs, just as if she's going to jackhammer me out. I grab my own bottle of lube, and do just the same thing- I love to take time and work it over my quivering nub, the ripe, puffy lips, and into the spasming hole I can't wait to ream out with my dildo. I tease a little bit around my asshole, too. When she's finished teasing me with her hands, I feel a round, blunt something pressing against the outside of my slit, and I shudder...she's going to penetrate me. I love having my ass propped up like this, bent over the pillow- it feels like I'm just being taken, fucked, used, and then I'll be left spent in my own juices- the shame of having to clean my nasty self up later titillates me. My pussy quivers around the shaft she gently eases into me, and I gasp and moan- I struggle against my cuffs and ties, trying to ease up her shaft, take it all in, but I'm caught- and she knows it. She slowly, painstakingly eases the prick in a few millimeters, then jerks it back out quickly, each time I'm spasming- I could come right now, but I'm not giving her that satisfaction. Oh, but I want to feel that rush, so bad. My gooey hands are sliding around my tender vulva, my panties damp and clinging around one ankle, and my toes are curled now. I can almost feel my dream lover's nipples grinding into my back as she licks my neck, bites it, then runs her nails over my shoulders and back. When she finally eases that shaft all the way in, I've already inserted my dildo into my waiting chasm. It's so wet it just eases in, but I can feel every ridge and vein on that pre-fab cock. She pumps my pussy slowly and steadily until I'm gritting my teeth, biting into the sheets, and wiggling around. I feel so useless, and it's embarassing that my hair is sticking to my face in sweaty tangles, her claw marks on my back are now ridged and stinging in the breeze from the window, and there she is, sawing away at my pussy, her hands clutching my hips to keep me from bucking, from getting my treat too early. When I envision this, I slide that cock as far into my greedy hole as it'll go, and I work that clit with my other hand- I'm almost dizzy, but I feel my pussy muscles start to clench and ripple, and I can feel a pool of my own come soaking my ass and my bedspread. I jack my clit off- stroking up and down it's little shaft with my thumb and forefinger, stroking the head. When I'm crying out, shrieking, I can barely hold it, she pulls out, and without preamble slams her rod right up my hungry ass, and the palm of her hand slaps my pussy and rigid clit hard. I yell out- the shock, the pain of my little tight asshole stretching to accommodate her merciless, ravenous cock, and oh, oh god, I'm melting... the dirty pleasure of it makes my head swim... she pulls the cord holding my legs wide, I squeeze my legs shut and gather my knees under me- she pulls me up so that I can clench my trembling, weak legs around her prick, and while trickles of lube run out of my ass and down my legs, I buck and thrust, and try to jam myself down on that cock as far as I can go, pulling at my cuffs to be in pleasurable oblivion. She bites my shoulder, and I feel one of hands reach around me to clutch my breast, another around to peel wide open my sweaty, streaked pussy lips, so one fingernail can graze my anguished clit. I love to feel her weight on me- it's like I'm her beast, and she's just broken and ridden me... and I'm still begging for her to master me again, as soon as I can catch my breath. I slide the dildo out of my pussy, and then right into my wet ass, and pump it furiously in and out like I'm mixing cake batter, as fast as I can while spanking my pussy with my hand... I come so hard that I see stars, and almost faint. Spent, quivering, sweaty, and smelling of the cloying sweetness of come, I pull my dildo out and gently stroke my obedient pussy, and say a silent thank you to my Dream Lover.