Reality's Dream

It had been a long, dreary and dismal day at the office and an even longer commute home, or so it seemed. All the others on the train looked equally drained, and this didn't make her feel any better.

When Joyce finally reached her doorstep, she was dead tired. She wasn't even the least bit hungry, and all she could think about was relaxing in a hot bath. How she dreaded these first few days of her period. She ached in a way that men would never understand. Men and their disgusting appendages. Men and their one track minds. She was glad that she was born a woman, even on days such as this.

She removed her pumps and settled into her couch as she rubbed her swollen ankles. Thoughts of the day rolled through her mind...the reports, the appointments, the demands from her boss and the leering looks from those dreadful guys in the mailroom. Another day, another run in her stockings...what did it matter. She would never see the raise that she deserved. That bastard would never approve it, he was a man, and men were so evil. Just the thought of this made her stomach turn. She hated him, as she hated all men.

She forced herself up from the couch, walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of merlot. After her first sip, she climbed the stairs and headed towards the sanctuary of her bedroom and attached bath. Reaching her bed, she stripped off her blouse, skirt and hose, threw them in the overstuffed chair and walked to the bathroom, where she turned the tub on. The steam rising from the vessel soothed her with it's tendrils of heat and moisture.

Removing her bra and panties, Joyce sat on the toilet and sighed as she relaxed her muscles, allowing her afternoon build-up of urine to spray from her body. When her bladder was empty, she reached down and pulled the tampon from its confines. Quickly studying it, she wrapped it in tissue and threw it in the waste bin. She relaxed her muscles once again, and allowed her bowels to empty into the toilet. Almost too tired to wipe herself, she stood and walked the few steps to the tub. The water was at the perfect level so she turned the faucet off and stepped into the heat, slowly lowering herself into the relaxing fluid. Leaning back, she drifted into an almost trancelike state, as the heat and moisture soothed away the day. It wasn't long before she drifted off to sleep.

********

She woke with a start, and realized that she now lay in a cool tub. All the heat had dispersed during her snooze. She raised herself up and stepped out onto the rug. It had turned dark, and she had no lights on in the bathroom or her bedroom. Only the small nightlight illuminated her movements.

Turning around to reach her towel, she froze in mid turn. He was sitting in the chair, staring at her. In his hand was a large gun, and it was pointed at her. Shadows hid his features, but she knew that his eyes were roving across her naked skin. Screaming was useless, as she lived deep in the woods, and no one would hear. She remembered that she had not locked the door when she came home. She was in trouble, and she knew it. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to swallow.

"Drop the towel." His deep voice was gentle, yet the underlying demand was real, and dangerous. She thought she recognized the voice, but could not place it.

"Drop the towel." he repeated, and she saw the gun flick to the left with an almost imperceptible gesture. She did what he asked and stood there shivering as the night air tried to absorb the droplets of water that covered her body.

"Turn away from me."

This man, this evil being sitting in HER chair, forced her to move with only his voice. She wanted to refuse, to deny his commands. She wanted to spit in his face.

"Turn."

She turned around with hatred oozing from her pores and could hear him shift in the chair. She stood there, framed in the doorway for what seemed to be hours, but may have only been seconds. He moved again.

She jumped when she felt the cold steel of the gun barrel touch her back, and she felt his breath caress her neck as he told her to be still. As he placed the blindfold across her eyes and tightened the straps, she felt a strange twinge deep inside, but that soon passed as she heard the unmistakable sound of duct tape being ripped from the roll.

He wrapped the tape around her head and secured the blindfold in place, then grabbed her hands and bound them together behind her. She thought of trying to kick him in the knee, or groin, but she knew he was bigger and more powerful than she, and it would likely make matters worse later on. She hated this...she did...yet why was she shivering again? She wasn't cold. She was burning with rage!

She found her voice and demanded that he leave now, to let her go, to stop his madness, but he remained silent as he brought her into her bedroom. Her voice cracked with the fire that was her anger as she pleaded with him. But he said nothing as he sat her on the edge of her double bed.

Joyce was terrified. Her brain was racing as she sat there with only the darkness and tape holding her immobile. Why am I not running away? Why is he doing this? Why am I sexually excited?

What??

But she was. She loathed admitting this to herself. This evil creature had broken into her house, taken her prisoner in her own room, and had turned her on without so much as 10 words. It sickened her that she was wet with desire. That a MAN had turned her on like this. A MAN! She was disgusted with herself as this was HER problem. HE wasn't making her wet, she only imagined it. It was her subconscious that was weak. She needed to take control...

"You're bleeding."

His words slapped her back into the present with their frankness. She was...oh my God! She had forgotten her period during this crisis. How long had she been home? How long had she slept in the bath? She tried to squeeze her legs closed, but knew immediately from the stickiness between her legs that it was too late, by now the blood was too visible. And he was there in front of her doing who KNOWS what, as he stared at her menstrual flow. She had never felt as exposed as she did at that very instant. And then her mind turned to the stain she knew would ruin her comforter. Please let this end, please let me live through this. Yet he had done nothing that would have made her think that she was in mortal danger. He had been gentle with her. The only danger was the gun that she knew was within his reach.

"Lie back." "Part your legs."

Joyce parted her legs slightly...but why? Why did she feel the need to do this? What was it that caused her to react this way? She lay back and parted her legs a bit further. Who WAS this man that was making her do these things with words alone? What was WRONG with her?

She felt the nylon ropes as he threaded them past her arm pits and pulled her tightly down into the comforter. And then more ropes attached to each leg just below the knee. She protested as the ropes pulled her legs further and further apart and it was at that very instant that the slight metallic tang of her flow reached her olfactory nerves. Here she was, tied to her bed, naked and blindfolded, bound by tape and ropes, bleeding the heaviest part of her cycle, and a man that she could not identify was only inches from her, smelling the same tang, and watching her body as she lay there – exposed and open.

She was excited by this. She shouldn't be, but she was. She most definitely was. It was no longer her SUB conscious.

And then the sound that she was dreading. She heard him unbuckle and unzip. She heard the sound of his pants hitting the floor, she heard him slide them away with his foot, she tensed as she could only wait for his violation of her body.

But it did not come. Seconds turned into minutes and then into hours. She called out, but he said nothing. She knew he was there, because when she was quiet, she could hear him breathing. And more time passed.

When the first touch of his tongue flitted across her pubis, she felt as though she had been shot from a cannon. She writhed against her bonds, but soon stopped as she felt the cold steel press against her breast. He continued to bathe her – that was indeed what he was doing, she could tell – he bathed her mons and cleft and inside her thighs with his tongue. He lapped and delved and cleaned her. Her excitement immediately returned with a vengeance. Why am I weak? Why does this feel so GOOD...just a little longer...

When he stopped, she was on the verge of orgasm. Only a few more moments, and her release would have come crashing through her. But the bastard STOPPED before she came. Did he know? She called him every name in the book, she spewed curses, she cried, she yelled... But he remained silent.

She lay in the prison that was her bed and listened as the songbirds told her that morning had arrived. Her arms and legs and back were so sore from the position in which she had been tied and oh no...she needed to pee. Should she mention this? Would he allow her to use the toilet? She needed to go. She knew he was in control. She asked.

"No."

No?? What??? Did he just expect her to hold it? To relieve herself right there on her bed? More pleading, more swearing...but again, he remained silent. And the more she swore and squirmed, the more she had to go. This was true torture. She REFUSED to go where she lay. But it was imminent. And NOW he chose to clean her again with his tongue. I should just pee on his face, she thought...and she relaxed her muscles...

She peed long and hard, and the bastard didn't move! He stayed right there, licking her, cleaning her, tasting her, drinking her. And when the last drips were falling, she began once again to build towards that orgasmic release. Please...please...please, she thought. Stay there long enough to...to....ungh unghhhuhhhuhhh ahhhhhnnghghgg!!!!

There is was, at long last! And as the powerful orgasm hit her, he changed positions and with a great thrust, impaled himself into her. She thrashed against his invasion and her orgasm built once again, never really stopping, but CHANGING...going from clitoral to vaginal in a matter of seconds. His bastard prick was filling her, stretching her, FUCKING her until she blacked out...

***********

It was the cold water that startled her into wakefulness. She lay in the now cold tub and jumped out, not knowing what to expect. She grabbed for her towel and crouched near the darkened door to her bedroom. She peered about, but saw no one. She dashed to her clothes, which lay on the chair and threw on the blouse and skirt, half expecting him to appear from SOMEWHERE, but he did not. Had he left? Was he still there, waiting to attack once again? Should she look in other parts of her house, or run to her car to escape the terror that she had lived through?

She looked towards the bed, expecting to see the tape and ropes, but they were nowhere. And the bloody stain that would never come clean...was gone? What? No! Had she dreamed this whole thing? She went back to the bathroom and saw that the toilet was still un-flushed from when she had used it prior to her bath. This is crazy! She flushed and stood there with a strange look on her face. A dream...my God. It was a DREAM! But it was so REAL...

Still stunned at this realization, she pulled the plug on the bath, sat on the toilet, replaced her tampon...

...and threw the wrapper in the empty waste bin.