Emily, reared by a religiously fanatical grandmother after her parents were taken from her by a freak accident, grew into young adulthood under-developed in self-esteem, social skills, and knowing much about sex, except whatever her older cousin would impart. Until the night of her grandmother’s funeral. Her awakening, regarding passion and sex, began with a dream.

In the dream, she’d stood in front of a house.

That dwelling looked naked under the waxing gibbous moon hanging high in the sky, she’d thought.

Her destination.

She knew the house well.

She walked through the door.

Icy-hot tentacles of fear embraced her when a gloved hand pulled at her. Then pain jarred through her body, as she was slammed to the floor. Blackness overtook her.

When her mind stirred to wakefulness, her body could not move. Stretched out on a rug, wrists were tied to two dining room table legs and her legs to two widely spread chairs.

She looked around, eyes wide, heart thundering. The room was deep in shadow. Her eyes had not adjusted; she could not see who stood near.

She tried to pull the chairs closer to ease the strain on her limbs. They would not shift. She twisted and turned, which made her arms ache and her wrists burn. The delicate Victorian vintage pieces felt more like concrete blocks than pieces of wood. Her head fell back onto the rug.

She saw movement. Looked up. A form loomed above her. Shifting, looking like a three-dimensional shadow in a darkened doorway with light behind that obscured any features of the silhouette. It moved closer. As it approached, she saw a skeletal outline of darkened eye sockets, hollowed cheeks, and a leering smile. Vileness radiated from it. Its foul smell, like rotting meat, struck her nostrils and she gagged from the putrid odor. Her fear exploded.

Emily pulled at the ties, but the straps remained unyielding. The laughter she heard from above was more of a rumble. Deep, threatening. She wanted to scream, to beg for release, but no words or sounds came. The entity moved nearer. She squeezed her eyes tight and waited.

The galloping in her heart was so loud in her ears she almost missed the alteration in the tone of sound that had turned into a soft lilting coo. With it came the scent of lavender. She sniffed. Listened. Uncertain.

A touch glided along her cheek. Warm. It seemed meant to soothe rather than hurt. She opened her eyes. Blinked. The face in front of her was lovely, serene. The image of a woman — cloudy, yet pleasant, smiling. She thought of her cousin, her best friend.

“Rachel?” The name came out of her mouth in a wisp. The reply was melodic laughter.

She sighed. Closed her eyes again. Felt a touch to her lips. She looked up to watch Rachel’s movements, see the smile, feel reassured.

A musky, sagey smell struck her nostrils, and she saw, instead of the face that resembled her friend, the face of a man, a red bandana tied carelessly around his neck. Her eyelids fluttered hard to see him clearly. But he’d moved back into the darkness.

Eyes closed again. She held her breath and waited.

The hem of her dress flew over her head. Her panties ripped away. She tried again to wrench her body around to break free. Could not.

A warm hand stroked her leg. She relaxed, liking the tender pressure upon her skin. The hand moved upward to the softness of her downy hair and pushed her inner thighs apart. She braced herself for the pain expected.

Instead, a surge of desire flooded her from skillful touches. An involuntary moan escaped her throat when her feminine lips were stretched and stroked. From those gentle fingers an urgency to consummate spread over her so strongly she raised her hips in expectation. A darting tongue lapped at her. She moaned. It moved deep inside. Deeper and deeper. Impossible! She held still. It reached past her abdomen as if searching for her heart.

Uneasiness from the penetration’s depth edged in. She brushed it away. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to explore the realms of passion that held her as captive as the ties.

Her back arched and she tried to make her hips meet the rhythm of fingers and tongue. Her skirt slipped from her face. She felt anguish from her immobility. She looked up, pleading.

Ties that were thick and inflexible suddenly melted away.

But she remained motionless. Waited for more.

There was nothing.

She looked around. She saw no one.

The room shimmered with opalescent moonlight and deep contrasting shadows.

She sat up. The movement caused her dress to billow and settle like a parachute. Fascinating. Maybe I can float away, she thought. But do I want to?

She closed her eyes contemplating.

She felt a finger gently stroke her cheek then trace the outline of her bottom lip. She wrapped her mouth around it and sucked hungrily as would a tiny infant on its mother’s teat.

It pulled away. She sat back feeling deprived of something new and wondrous. Her bottom lip quivered.

Her chin was lifted, but she dared not look.

When a warm hardness parted her lips, she flicked her tongue out. The drop of moisture tasted slightly salty, slightly bitter. She reached to touch the object. It was too large for her hand to grasp. She opened her eyes.

A whimper rose up her throat. She thought of a boa constrictor that whipped around like the tail of a lion. Beckoning. Thicker than her arm. Longer. Destructive. To be feared. Yet she wasn’t afraid.

Anticipation filled her.

Flushed with excitement, she grasped it, then rose. Because of its size, she could only straddle it and slide along its length. Friction brought such pleasure she gasped from the intensity. Her eyelids fluttered involuntarily, her mouth opened as the whimpers accelerated.

An eruption came from deep within her. Intense, sensational, unexpected! A sense of awe swept over her. Then fatigue permeated her being.

When she tried to lie back, she was moved gently to the floor, limp, unresisting. She curled herself up on her side, passion slaked and drifted into a peaceful and contented slumber. She slept deeply, gladly while her system recharged. Far away in that sleep within sleep, desires began to stir again as she was moved prone, spread. Once again, something pushed its way inside her. She cried out as she slept. Although her wetness made entry easier, the pain was intense when movements persisted. Slow, careful. Slumber not disturbed. She dreamed.

Her passions grew when the serpent-like object slithered farther inside and continued to snake its way upward. Exploring. Searching. The echo of “Yes!” slipped from her mouth. In eagerness, she moved her hips to help consume more of him. The dream seemed very real.

Her slumbering mind sensed a voyage of great discovery. When the object approached her womb she saw the incompleteness there then watched the cavity fill with warmth and heat. The vessel moved on.

The voyager drifted upward, stopping at each organ. Like river ports for unloading precious cargo.

Her heart pulsed expectantly when it was approached, surrounded and stimulated by this transformer of souls. The mass was heated to a warm glow, its rhythm soothed, its portals strengthened.

The manipulator moved on.

She felt pressure inside her head as the cortex was penetrated. Cerebrum purged, cleansed, replenished. Changes nearly realized. The last stop.

Upon withdrawing, warm fluid was ejected throughout the chambers, coating, sealing, anointing. Consecration of the cargo-holds complete.

She felt wondrous peace and completeness when the object slipped easily from her body, satisfied, lading dispersed, river abandoned leaving shadows of ripples and desires for more in its wake.

Her body stirred, eyelids fluttered. She felt fulfilled, reborn. She looked around for him. In the dimness she saw the reclining form with his staff draped across his leg, gratified, its seed released. Like the python after eating its prey. A shiver ran through her. Yet she ignored her disquiet and reached out eager, yearning. She stroked. It hardened. She straddled his legs.

Easing her body onto the tip, she could only take a tiny part of it into her. Like my life, her mind declared. But I want more. I will get more.

Eyes shut. She felt desire course through her again, a savage river building momentum. Out of control. Until exquisite contractions poured from her. The dam bursting once again. With every orgasmic explosion came another surge of need, as if one fed the other, a confluence that mushroomed and multiplied into waves of never-ending insatiability.

In her rapture, she opened her eyes to look at the man she faced. She wanted to see his features, study them, and remember who had awakened her body and mind. She wanted to see if he was pleased about her joy, her awakening. But when she looked hard through the darkness, she saw the woman again, watching her with a smile on her sensuous lips and a mischievous gleam in brown eyes. Lavender tickled her nostrils when a giggle escaped the woman’s mouth.

Her breath quickened when she felt the feminine hands on her breasts. Eyes closed again upon feeling the touch of her nipples as the other’s ample bosom rubbed against her own.

There was no shame. It seemed a natural thing. She wanted to stroke the woman’s face, kiss the soft lips, caress the warm body. But when she reached to pull the face closer, it was coarse and hard and cold.

Her hand snapped away. The rotting smell assaulted her. She cringed and gagged. A smell of evil.

She stopped her breaths, not wanting to take in the decaying odor.

She heard a cackle. It grew louder, deeper, to a frightening roar of menacing laughter. Her eyes flew open. She sucked at the air when she saw what sat before her.

Three heads floated, bobbing back and forth toward her as if pulled by a puppet master. One, beautiful, soft, feminine — not Rachel’s face — smiled sympathetically.

Arrogant laughter came from the handsome, masculine face with the red necktie around his neck.

The third, a demonic face, leered and chuckled with a rattle that sounded like dried bones.

The heads were attached to one body — the body she sat upon. She lurched backward to try to get away from the perch she’d relished moments before. She could not move.

Arms held her tight. Terror and anticipation fought to win her emotions.

The three-in-one entity stood, reached down and cupped her buttocks, threw her onto the tabletop then jerked her closer to the edge, and plunged.

Emily bolted upright, the scream still locked in her throat. The thundering in her chest felt as if a herd of runaway cattle stampeded across her torso. She slowly looked around, “Oh dear, God!” she whispered.

Emily groped for quilts but found them tossed carelessly at the end of the bed.

“It was just a dream.”

She needed to believe those words.

“Yet it seemed so real!”

She looked toward the mirror that hung above the plain wooden table, expecting to see her likeness dressed in a white, high-necked cotton nightgown, face taut, pale, with frightened eyes. But the woman that stared back at her wore a casual grin, almost a smirk, and had a look of contentment on her face. No fear. And there was no nightgown. The tops of her bare breasts showed just above the sheet she clutched. She was looking at someone else. A stranger. Not her own image.

Something was happening to her, but what she didn’t know.

She welcomed change; she needed change. She no longer wanted to be innocent, untutored, unenlightened. But why has it come in the form of a dream and shameless sex?

She smiled. But was it a dream? It seemed way too real, and not so shameless. Who was this dream lover?

I’ve got to know.

Dream Ripples - From The Awakening of Emily Series

The Art of Auto Negotiations - From The Awakening of Emily Series

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