Dream a Little Dream of Ch. 04

She half-smiled, "It could be better, sweetie."

He slapped her again, probably harder than he should, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you know what I am? What I could do to you?"

"Show me," were her teeth sharper?

Winstad fumed. Where had the meek runaway gone? Something was very wrong here, yet he had no idea how so. He almost got off her with the intention of calling his partner, however the sight of her unmarked pale naked chest stopped him. Why was he letting this pathetic, frail slut confound him? He was in the position of power and power meant everything.

He leaned over to whisper in her ear, "I could have saved you, Marenda, but you made me want to hurt you. You made it so that now you might not leave this room alive. You remember that; I could have saved you."

"You already have," he felt her lips on his neck.

The room span and for one horrifying moment Winstad felt as if the girl was somehow inside him, like his eyes were hers but they were looking inward, through and throughout him. Then he blinked and it was over. He shuddered and swallowed back the urge to vomit, taking several long breaths to steady himself. What the fuck was that? He shuddered again, this time in unexpected pleasure as he felt the girl handling his manhood.

"Nice cock. A little small, but nice."

"What the-?"

Still beneath him the girl pressed a single finger to his lips, "Shhh. Don't ruin this moment. Your ignorance is bliss."

The man wanted to hit her again, but still felt too shaky. He gathered all the confidence and venom he could muster and growled, "Let me explain something to you. You are now a slave and that means you are nothing but property, most likely destined to be no more than a set of holes to be used. Trying to seduce me won't change a-"

"Winstad: shut the fuck up."

Instantly, he was unable to speak and dread filled him. How had she managed to spike him with the compulsion drug? He had to act fast; if he knocked her out, she would not be able to give him any more commands. However, somehow he just did not feel like hurting her. All the while she was tracing lines along his erection drawing tingles along his skin. Winstad reminded himself that it was his only chance to regain control of himself, but he was just hit with another wave of apathy towards behaving violently. He could not even ball his fists. He panicked and tried to move.

"Now now, Winstad: don't struggle. Why don't you lie down and get comfortable," unable to do anything else he complied and she continued, "Where to start? Oh yes! That was a set-up, right? With the drunk at the bar. You were working with him?"

The man would not have answered even if he could so he simply glared murder at her.

"Oh, sorry. Winstad: you may speak."

"I'm going to fucking kill you," he snarled voice raising as he went on, "You think you can get away with this? Drug me? Fuck with me? You've just crossed a member of the most powerful organisation in the kingdom. I'm going to find out your worst nightmares and make them come true, you understand me?"

The girl seemed to consider his words for a moment before saying, "Winstad: stop breathing."

There was no tightening of his throat or physical pressure, he simply lost the ability to inhale. The slaver tried to attack her again, but was met with the same lack of will. He simply clutched softly at her until she calmly removed his hands and pushed him back onto the bed. Bizarrely she never stopped softly caressing his cock which traitorously strained against her touch.

Marenda regarded him with distant curiosity as he began to suffocate, "Why does your type always waste time with petty threats and gestures? I mean, I already know the answer, but it always bugs the crap out of me. You could be gathering information, feigning cooperation to make an actually effectual retribution, but no. Posture, posture, bullshit. You're very lucky that I'm enjoying this little rendezvous more than you're irritating me otherwise I could just end up killing you. And by the way, that isn't a threat; it's a warning. Don't fucking annoy me."

As he felt his extremities start to numb she went on, "Oh and FYI I didn't drug you, though that draught you used on me is some seriously good shit. I'm still trippy from it; you must tell me where to get more. Hmm? Oh, but there's plenty of time for that, first we really need to set up some ground rules, don't you agree? Winstad? For fucks sake, I said you couldn't breathe, not speak."

Black spots forming in his vision and consciousness floating away, the man tried to spit a curse, but only managed a weak hack. The remnants of his focus centred on the slight, feminine hand stroking his cock and the quickly fading image of her stiff ruby nipples. They really were nice little tits.

"Winstad: breathe."

Gaes broken, the man heaved air painfully back into his lungs and frenziedly tried to restore order to his thoughts. In apparent disgust at his sputtering she had sopped fondling him, which helped. If she had not drugged him, how was she controlling him? Who even was she and who was she working for? His superiors held monopoly over this region's slave trade did they not? Suddenly inspiration hit him; what had she not commanded?

Limbs still weak from oxygen deprivation, he dragged himself off the bed and towards the door. His fingers were inches from the handle when Marenda said, "Winstad: stop."

He was so close! For the first time in his life, the man let loose a wail of despair.

"Oh wonderful," the girl grumbled, "Winstad: be a dear and convince the man coming up here that nothing is wrong and to leave us alone till morning, please."

The slaver heard no one at first, however soon enough there came the creak of stairs followed by a knock on the door. The slaver opened it to reveal his underling looking more bored than concerned until he noticed Winstad's bobbing cock and transitioned to bemused, "Everythin' good, um, sir?"

He wanted to shout no and to order him to kill the witch, for that was surely what she must be, yet his voice spoke, "The whore surprised me, it's under control."

From the cot, the girl mewled, "Please help me. He... he hurt me and oh gods please, please help me."

The guard leaned past Winstad to gander at Marenda who had curled up into a whimpering ball, he puffed out his bearded cheeks in admiration, "Sure you don't want some, er... help?"

"Fuck off, Bonry," Winstad gently pushed him out of the door frame and back into the corridor, "And take the rest of the night off. I don't want to be disturbed."

"Yeah, I bet. I'll just-" the guard was cut off by a door to the face.

The witch unfolded herself and sat up with legs parted to reveal the slightest sliver of pink within her golden curls, "Good boy. Now I should have done this sooner, but, Winstad: while we are in this room together you may not attempt to communicate with anyone but me."

If he truly was stuck here, the slaver had to know, "What do you want from me?"

"I want to talk. I want to fuck. And I want to change you. Yep, that's it. Now get over here, lover."

He almost went to her until he realized she had not compelled him, "I don't understand. You want sex? You want to change me? What does that even mean?"

"Winstad: Get the fuck over here," he could not resist this time and in a moment was standing before her with his penis at her head's height, "It means sweetie, that you are a bad person. You get off on dominating and hurting people," she reached up to delicately tickle his testicles with her nails, "your ambitions are selfish and masochistic, and you ruin the lives of your victims without a single moment of remorse."

He let out a shaky breath as she teased his erection back to full straining attention, "Ah, that's not true. You were my first job. I'm just doing this to pay off a debt, they threatened my wife!"

"Oh Winstad. You can't lie to me; I've just had the displeasure of being in your mind. I know more about you now than you do," Marenda peeled back his foreskin and snaked her tongue around the rim of his cockhead, "At least you're a prissy son of a bitch. Personal hygiene is such a rarity in places like this," she took him into her mouth for a long, slow suck, "Mmm, truly scrumptious."

The urge to strike her came and was quashed again, "In my mind? How?"

Brushing her lips against the tip of his sex she replied, "Oh? Vampire, psychic mumbo jumbo, blah blah blah."

Making sense of her was growing more difficult than ignoring the pleasure being wrought upon him, "What?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," she looked up to flash him a crooked smile, "You know, it's been forever and a day since I last changed someone from the outside? I mean I cheated a little with the groundwork, but still. I'm sick of fisticuffs right now, you see?" she regarded him for a moment and must have seen his confusion as she continued, "Fine, lay it to the layman. You are an insipid, nasty cock weasel, but you are not entirely irredeemable. I am going to take from you your freedom and make you so that your only chance of regaining it is through altruistic deeds. I started by placing a block on any violent urges you might have."

His initial incredulity at her words crumbled rapidly into a rising tide of certainty that he was indeed at the complete mercy of her words and whims. In another first for the evening he began to beg, "Look, I can get you whatever you want, just let me go, please."

"Can you remember how many women said that to you?" she made a fist around his cock and started to very slowly pump it.

The slaver's knees trembled as his groin flushed with warm arousal, "Oh gods."

"Winstad: I asked you a question."

"I don't know," he answered truthfully.

Never stopping stroking his hot erection she refreshed his memory, "Thirty-eight. That's how many begged you not to hurt them, to let them go. There was one more though, wasn't there? One who wouldn't plead for mercy, who wouldn't sacrifice her dignity for the slim chance that you would listen. Do you remember her?"

"Please, stop with your hands. Why are you doing this?"

"Because I need to feel you struggle and suffer and succumb. I need it, Winstad, because I'm more of a monster than you could ever conceive of. I need it. So work with me here; tell me about the one who wouldn't beg."

"No, please. I'm sorry, please..."

"Winstad: tell me," even without the command, the ice in her voice would have been enough to get him to start talking and as he began he felt her mouth engulf his member.

The girl took him all the way in so that his glans was pressed against the back of her throat. The slaver was terrified by how entrapped his cock felt even as it was sucked and bathed in saliva. Her tongue undulated along his length and her fingers found his balls and perineum. Despite his fear, he amazingly remained hard and the witch stimulated little jerks of pre-cum from him.

Falteringly he began recounting what had happened, "She seemed nice at first. And smart; she wouldn't take a drink off me. We talked for longer than usual, she had brown eyes, I..." he tried to stop, but the words were wrenched from him, "she must have figured out what I was, because she tried to slip away. I stopped her, hit her. She never said a word after that, just stared at me."

Marenda did not look at him, she solely focused on pleasuring him. She kept it slow, twisting her fist and sinuously wringing his shaft in a way that made his toes curl. Her tongue was as equally agile, coiling around his angry glans relentlessly. Winstad wanted to grab her hair if only for balance, yet he did not dare touch her. As she brought him ever closer to orgasm turmoil reigned within his mind, unsure whether he most hated, feared or craved the blonde enigma who feasted on his cock.

"I had to drag her to the room," he went on, "she fought me for every inch, but she was weak. I told her fate and how to make the best of it, but she just stared hate at me. She didn't beg like the others, just stared. Why wouldn't she speak?" his voice grew strained from emotion and the witch's quickening pace, "Did she think she was better than me?"

The blonde was getting rougher with his penis to the cusp of pain. She squeezed as she tugged and Winstad's words came through increasingly ragged breaths. He felt his testicles start to tighten and boil and when he rocked on his heels the witch dug her claws into his thighs to steady him.

"So I beat her. I beat her until her eyes swelled shut and she couldn't stare at me anymore," Marenda bobbed rapidly upon him, "I went to pick her up and-" he was going to cum, "and she spat at me! Who the fuck did she think she was? Well," a tear ran down his cheek, "I showed her, oh gods, I showed her."

He moaned in despair and bliss as he reached the edge and gazed into merciful oblivion. He reached out for the stretch of nothingness that orgasm would bring, but Marenda snatched it, along with her mouth, away. Winstad's cock pulsed and for a moment he thought he might make it regardless, however the moment passed and he collapsed.

Marenda patted his bowed head like he was an animal, "You know? I'm not sure if you're a massive cliché or not. It doesn't matter I suppose." She tipped his head up, "Ready for more?"

He was just above eye level now to her spread crotch. Her labia was sheened with arousal, little beads clung to her thatch and the sheets she sat upon were sodden. Her heady musk spurred unwanted desires and his primed cock strained with need. What had she done to him? What more could she do? The slaver shivered and shied away, "Please, no."

"There there, sweetie. Don't break yet, you've so much more to lose," the man let out a sob, "Winstad: don't cry. You look fucking horrific. Now get up on the bed and lie down."

Strings tugged, he did as he was told; rested his head on a pillow and stared up at the flickering candlelit ceiling. The witch lay down next to him, propping herself up on an elbow and brandishing his knife. Winstad swallowed but did not flinch away. He wondered if he had simply run out of fear. Did she actually mean to kill him? Wearily he doubted it, expecting it to more likely torture now. She rested the blade flat against his chest and he held his breath. Then she went to work on the remnants of his clothes.

"Ooh irony," she teased, "You were saying that by raping me and then selling me into slavery would save me? Hmm, the bullshit we weave to justify our dirty deeds. I want you to know that you have saved me, Winstad. You saved me from my boredom. Hell, I might even be able to go for more than a week before getting antsy again. So, thanks."

Marenda peeled the shorn clothing off him and slid atop him so that their naked chests were pressed together and her pussy smeared its juice along his abdomen. He could not help but look down at the girl pressing herself lewdly against him and catch a peek of nipple. Despite her slenderness she still possessed cambers so smooth that they would no doubt be outlawed in the theocratic kingdoms to the north. The curves of her hips melted into her ass and how was this devil still attractive to him?

He scrunched his eyes shut in dismay only have them shoot back open when he felt her mons brush the tip of his cock. The witch rolled her hips several times so that their sexes met with feather light pressure. His fists clenched as she rewound his tension. Gods, were they actually going to fuck? Could he take it?

"Winstad, before I lobotomize you I've got a few questions. Firstly, that was a fucking set up right?"

Too befuddled to notice if he had been compelled or not he answered honestly regardless, "Yes."

"Ha! I fucking knew it!" she jumped and his shaft was forced upon the groove of her sex, "Cool, two; do you want to die?"

"No," he really did not.

"That's good. You mustn't off yourself once we're through, it'd be a terrible waste. And lastly; do you want to fuck?"

"...Yes," more than he wanted to escape, damn him.

The smile she gave him was almost shy as she shifted her hips in attempt to line up their genders. Her sopping vulva found his tip again and Marenda's eyes fluttered as she brought him just inside of her. The smooth resistance of his entry was perfection and his hips jumped of their own volition gaining deeper purchase.

Though in bliss he had closed his eyes, he had the distinct impression that she was watching his face as she completed her descent so that his penis was fully sheathed.

The witch was tight and unreasonably wet, and the fact that she was not as warm as other girls did not bother his snug dick in the slightest. Especially not when she leaned back and arched her back lending prominence to her petite tits. She rode him lazily, giving out little sighs and biting her lower lip. Watching a girl enjoying having his cock inside her was another first for him and it was mesmerising. Though, enough fear still remained that he did not risk touching her.

Marenda slowed to a stop, "Language is so very imprecise you know? At least in comparison to the clarity of intent and such. So you better hope I don't slip and leave you a simpleton," she draped herself back over him and whispered to him, "This might get a little intense, sweetie, so focus on this if it gets too much," her vagina clenched around him, "Winstad:"

The witch went to work on his mind, breathing instructions and codes into the man. She was right; having his will moulded like putty was a kind of agonizing non-pain as his own thoughts betrayed him and twisted into poison. He desperately renewed his efforts to struggle and escape, but he found he could not even twitch. All the while Marenda continued sliding her sheathe up and down his length to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Winstad's sense of self blurred and refocused over and over as the girl sighed and whimpered to him. Time lost meaning as the man's avarice and narcissism diminished and his empathy and goodwill swelled. In a panic he took her advice and focused on their lovemaking; the wet friction that simultaneously soothed and enflamed his manhood. Pull and plunge. Pull and plunge.

"-and one more thing; If you cum in me, you won't be able to again. Ok, done," as soon as she said it his will snapped back into place.

Winstad took her arms and pushed her back so he could look her in the eyes and asked, "Am I still me?"

"You tell me," he could not read her expression.

The former slaver was unused to introspection and did not know how to ascertain such an answer of even what kind of questions he should ask so he settled for feeling. Yes, he was different, but he was still him, if not necessarily himself. His head hurt so he again took solace in the comfort of her pussy embracing his cock. Wait a minute.

"Will you let me go now?" he gently tried to prise her off of him.

The blonde responded by slamming her hips down with a wicked grin. He was taken into her deeply with a gasp, "That's not fair."

Marenda laughed, "Really? What about my satisfaction, darling? Don't I deserve my dessert?"

Unwilling to curse at her, he repeated, "That's not fair."

"Of course it isn't," she grunted as she leaned back with an arm to steady her and began to hump him, "but if you can't get me off before you spurt, your cock will have a permanent limp."

She wanted to have an orgasm? Winstad had not even been convinced that women could cum until tonight. Sure, he had heard that they could enjoy sex and something about a clitoris? Was she enjoying the sensation of their genders grinding thoroughly against each other as much as he was? Oh gods, do not think about it.

Could he hold off long enough? How long would she even take?

The witch's vagina squelched wetly as she pounded him into the mattress and as ecstasy was forced upon him he could already feel his sack tighten in preparation for his imprisonment. He tried to think about something, anything else yet, the sight of her breasts bouncing tautly in front of him did not help. He closed his eyes, but that just seemed to heighten the sensitivity of his member being slickly tortured.