Dream Siren

Eric fought against her, trying to get free, and she cried, "Master, wake up! Wake up!"

* * *

"Wake up! Eric, wake up!"

Eric bolted upright in his bed; it was daylight.

"About time!" Daphne said, her hand still on his shoulder. "I've been shaking and shaking you trying to wake you up, I was starting to get a little worried."

"I was having the strangest dream," he said.

"I can tell...I hope it was about me."

Eric looked down and realized his cock was completely stiff, sticking up straight like an arrow and tenting the thin white sheet.

Embarrassed, he tried to cover it with his hand. "What are you doing in my apartment?"

"We're late," she said. "When you didn't come to get me I came here instead and knocked and knocked. After you didn't answer, I went and got the spare key you gave me to hold. I know you told me not to use it, but I was worried about you."

"Thanks," he said, looking at the clock and shocked to see he'd slept in by over an hour. "Shit, I've got to get dressed, we've got to get going."

He went to get up and realized Daphne was still sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him.

"Umm, do you mind turning your back while I get dressed?"

"Sorry," she said, as she stood and faced away from him.

But she'd positioned herself so that as he got out of bed she could see him perfectly in the full-length mirror.

Daphne had never seen him naked before, and what she saw made her catch her breath. He was everything she'd imagined. If desire had a name, she thought, its name was Eric.

He was built like a champion swimmer, with broad shoulders and a lean, perfectly muscled body. As he got out of bed he stretched, and Daphne felt flushed as every inch of him was put into perfect definition.

He shook his fingers through his wavy, dirty-blonde hair and rubbed his hands across his face.

But Daphne wasn't looking at his face. Her eyes were between his legs.

When she'd felt his cock in the car she knew it was thick, but now...seeing it in all its glory...she never realized how long he was. Even half-hard, he was nearly as big as most of the guys she'd been with.

Based on what she'd seen jutting up beneath the sheet, and what she was looking at now, she guessed he had to be at least eight to nine inches long...and thick.

She was fantasizing about what it would be like to be beneath him, what it would be like to be fucked by that beautiful cock, when Eric turned to grab his clothes from the dresser.

"Holy shit!" she said.

Eric turned to see what was wrong and quickly covered his cock with his hands as he saw Daphne coming toward him.

She turned him sideways and he winced in pain as she brushed her fingers across his ass cheek. "Oww, that stings!" he said.

"I bet it does," said Daphne, turning him to get a better look at his butt as she rubbed her hand soothingly across both cheeks. "What the hell were you up to last night?"

Eric turned his back to the mirror and looked over his shoulder, as she removed her hand he saw the marks.

Angry red lines crisscrossed his ass -- whip marks from a flogger.

Eric stared at them disbelievingly. How were they possible? He'd only dreamed of the dominatrix -- hadn't he?

As he checked out his ass in the mirror, Daphne was checking out his cock again.

It was so near, and so beautiful. She dreamed of touching it again, of feeling it growing hard in her hand.

"Umm...Daph?" said Eric. "What are you doing?"

But she didn't hear him. As if in a trance, she had her hand wrapped around his thick cock, slowly stroking it back and forth.

"Daph!" he said, prying her hand off his shaft, "Please don't..."

Daphne stepped back, staring at her hand in disbelief, and her eyes went wide as she looked at Eric, unable to comprehend how her hand had ended up around his cock. "Oh my god...I didn't mean to...I mean, I didn't even know I -- "

"It's okay," Eric said, pulling up his boxer briefs and tucking his stiff cock inside. "Let's just forget about it. We've got bigger things to worry about, like getting to work before we're both fired."

* * *

A flimsy excuse of car trouble and a promise to make up the extra hour got them off the hook for being late, but the next seven hours passed painfully slow for Eric.

He couldn't stop thinking about the dream...or dreams. How could there be whip marks on his ass if it was only a dream? Had he clawed his own ass in his sleep? Was the damage self-inflicted?

Eric went to the washroom, locked the door and pulled down his jeans until he could see the marks on his ass, and then he got the feeling again.

The same feeling he'd had all day whenever he passed a mirror...as if someone was watching him.

He tentatively reached out his fingers and touched the mirror's surface. When he felt cool glass against his fingertips, nothing more, he shook his head and realized how crazy he must have looked.

Eric knew it had only been a nightmare, he'd had them before, he knew how real they could seem and how the memory could linger for days. And the marks...he must have scratched himself on something in his bed.

He pulled up his pants, checked his hair in the mirror and opened the door. But as he turned off the light and left the room, he never heard the faint siren song searching for him from the other side of the silvered glass.

When their day was done, Daphne met him by his car.

"Did you ask Saul?" said Eric.

"Huh?"

"Saul. Did you see if he wanted to go out with you on Valentine's Day?"

"Oh fuck, I completely forgot..." How could she remember, Daphne thought, when all day she hadn't been able to stop thinking about Eric's cock, wondering how it had ended up in her hands, and wondering how she could get it there again.

She promised she'd ask Saul tomorrow and as they drove home together they were both quiet, their minds elsewhere.

* * *

Eric closed his laptop. Tonight he hadn't done his usual search. Hadn't looked for depictions of bondage...snapshots of submission. He wondered if those were what had fueled his nightmare of the dream sirens.

With nervous anticipation he stripped naked, neatly folded his clothes and crawled into bed. Lying on his side in the semi-darkness, he couldn't help watching the mirror.

Eric's head nodded for what seemed to be only a few seconds, but as he looked around his apartment it seemed...different. And as he listened, he could just hear the faint song of the sirens drifting through the mirror, beckoning him.

But between him and the mirror, kneeling, she waited for him.

The girl with the dark hair, kneeling completely nude with her back and shoulders straight, her chest out and belly in, her head up with her eyes averted toward the floor, and knees spread with her hands on her thighs, palms up. On her shoulder perched a butterfly.

When Eric rose from the bed she didn't move, but the butterfly flew toward him, fluttered by his ear, and whispered, "Omnia vincit amor."

Unsure of what he'd heard, Eric turned to the butterfly but it was gone. "I'm dreaming again, aren't I?"

"This is only one of your dreams," she said.

And then they heard it together, the sirens' song growing louder, beckoning him toward their dark mistress.

"I know you dream of pain," she said. "But don't go to her...give me your pain, Master."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because you are my Master and I am your slave."

As she said the words, she raised her dark eyes and he saw pinpricks of light reflected there, like the ones he'd seen beyond the mirror. And as he stepped closer, and her eyes shone brighter, the song from beyond the mirror grew fainter.

"Who are you?" he said.

"I am your soul...your breath of life."

"I mean...what's your name?"

"I have no need of a name, I exist only to serve you."

"Then...what do I call you?"

"Slave."

Eric looked down at her and, now that she was naked, realized the full measure of her beauty. Every curve was perfection, from the soft glide of her hips to the radius of her full breasts.

Slave...the word lingered on his lips. He reached down and trailed a finger across her erect nipple, and with a touch the bond was made.

"Rise, slave."

"Thank you, Master," she said, and rose to her feet.

Eric sensed something around his neck; he was wearing the silver collar again. He reached his fingers up to touch it and, as he did, it appeared around her neck.

When she felt its weight, she reached up her hands to hold it, closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure as the cold of the metal comforted her.

As she opened her eyes and held out her hand, she said, "Can we begin, Master?"

Eric took her hand but hesitated. "Begin what?"

"The domination."

He looked around his small apartment, and noticed the clock said three thirty four. "Where? Here?"

"No, beyond the mirror." She pulled his hand and they stepped through together.

As they stepped into the darkness beyond, floating on a sea surrounded by a million pinpricks of light, he heard the dream sirens' song, calling him.

She squeezed his hand. "You'll be able to resist them, as long as you're with me."

"And what about you," Eric said, "will I be able to resist your song?"

"I hope not, as I sing a song of pleasure, while they sing a song of pain."

"But...who are they...who is she?"

"They were her servants, and she was their Mistress, but they failed her, and now they would give you to her as penance."

"And she's out there somewhere in this...darkness?"

"Darkness? Oh, Master, have you been blinded by your dream of pain?"

She leaned close, and Eric closed his eyes as she kissed him on both.

And when he opened them, instead of darkness, there was light, an infinite amount of light. The pinpricks had become doorways, golden doorways of every size and shape. And as the light from them flooded the nothingness around Eric he saw that he and his slave were floating in the space between the doorways, as if carried by invisible wings.

Seeing the bewildered look on her Master's face, she pulled him toward one and he saw Daphne on the other side.

She was lying in bed with the sheets and blankets pushed down. Naked, her hand was between her legs, and she tilted her head back and moaned as she pleasured herself.

"She is dreaming of you."

Eric was astonished to realize he was looking at her from the other side of the mirror above the dresser in her bedroom. "Why is she dreaming of me?"

His slave smiled at him. "Any girl who met you would dream of you."

"And if she looks at the mirror, will she be able to see me watching her?"

"No, we watch, but we are never seen."

She pulled him away from Daphne's mirror and as they went to other doorways they watched other lovers, other lives as they passed before their mirrors.

Lovers seen from the mirror above a bed, a couple lying together at the edge of a pond, two teenagers in the backseat of a car, caught in the rearview mirror.

"Anyone who is near a mirror? We can see them?" he said.

"Anyone who casts a reflection, on a mirror, on a pond, in your world or any world, we can see." She pulled him toward the tiniest doorway, and he could feel the love as a young mother cradled her newborn son and kissed him for the first time, and he watched her from the reflection in her infant's eye.

"And they don't know we're watching?" he whispered, gliding back from the tiny doorway.

"They can't see us, but sometimes they will sense us, sense that they're being watched, like you did at work today when I was watching you."

Eric felt overwhelmed as he slowly turned in a circle and saw the infinite number of doorways, the infinite number of lovers. "But...where are we?"

"In the space between."

"The space between what?"

"Lives."

Seeing the confusion on his face, as he struggled to wrap his brain around everything she'd told him, she pulled him close. "Do not think of them, Master, think of yourself. Remember that this is only a dream -- your dream."

"A dream...but it seems so real," he said, and looked into her eyes. "Why do you keep coming to me in my dreams? And why do the others keep calling to me?"

"Because you dream of pain...and we both want you to taste it; in our own ways and for our own reasons."

She led him to a doorway and they stepped inside. Eric looked around and saw they were in a small, windowless room. The only furniture was a wooden table in the center of the room, but on the walls were manacles, bindings, ropes, paddles, floggers, whips and other instruments of bondage and pain.

"Is this your dungeon?" said Eric.

"No, this is the home of a woman who has bought all of these things because, like you, she dreams of pain. But she has never found anyone to share it with, never had a chance to punish anyone other than herself.

"I crept into her room earlier tonight and sang softly to her as she slept. She won't awake until you do, Master, and everything you dream of she'll dream of too."

Eric paced the room, exploring the wall's wares with his hands, flexing them, feeling their weight. "You said earlier you both had reasons for calling to me in my dreams. What's your reason?"

"I am your slave, what reason can there be other than it pleases you?"

But the bond had been made, and Eric knew his slave wasn't lying, but he knew she wasn't telling him the whole truth.

"There is another reason," he said, stepping close to her, both of them naked. "Tell it to me now."

"Master, I cannot -- "

Eric wrenched her arm as he spun her around and pushed her down hard on the tabletop. She grunted as he forced her down, crushing her breasts against the cold, polished surface, her ass in the air as she bent over the table.

She tried to get back up and he pushed her down, keeping his hand between her shoulder blades as he kicked her legs apart.

Eric had taken a flogger from the wall with red and black tails. He slapped them gently against her ass.

"Will you tell me what I want to know? Tell me why you come, singing to me in my dreams? Or do I have to punish you?" He snapped the flogger against her ass a second time, a little harder, and she whimpered softly against the blow.

She tried to get up again but he held her down, and she whispered, "You must punish me, Master."

Eric looked down at her, bent over the table with her arms sprawled in front of her and her legs spread wide, ready for him, and he knew she was right.

He flogged her, each soft flick a little harder than the last, each blow aimed at a different part of her soft skin. The tails kissed the cheeks of her ass, the tender insides of her thighs, and the sensitive spot between her shoulder blades.

His slave moaned and gasped as he punished her and kept her face down on the table, so that she'd never know where the flogger was going to land next.

Eric leaned over her to sweep her long, dark hair away from her shoulders, exposing them for the next blow from the flogger, and as he did, his fully erect cock brushed against the inside of her thigh and she moaned in anticipation.

He reached his hand down between her legs and rubbed two of his fingers between the swollen lips of her pussy; she was soaked.

He dropped the flogger on the table close to her head and she started at the unexpected bang the hard handle made when it struck the wood.

Moving directly behind her, he kept one hand on the small of her back as he rubbed the head of his cock against her opening. She lifted herself on her tiptoes to give him better access.

"Are you ready to be punished, slave?"

"Yes, Master," she moaned, trying to back up on his cock, but unable to as his hand pinned her to the table.

He slid his cock forward, teasing her by rubbing the thick head between her lips and flicking it downward as it brushed her clit.

She wiggled her ass, begging him to fuck her. "Master...please."

"Tell me the reason. Tell me why you sing to me in my sleep, and come to me in my dreams."

"I cannot..." She reached back with her hand, trying to guide his hip forward.

Eric grabbed both of her arms and pulled them behind her back. "Then it's time for your punishment," he said, and drove his cock inside her.

She gasped as his thick pole parted her pussy lips and spread her wide. He pulled her arms, arching her back and sliding her along his shaft until her ass met his hips. She moaned; his entire length was inside her.

Eric let go of her arms, but she kept them behind her back, helpless as he put one hand on her hip and one hand on her shoulder and rocked his hips back and forth, working his thick cock in and out of her aching pussy. Aching because it had been so long...

"Oh, Master," she groaned as he fucked her, starting slowly and gradually increasing the force and tempo, as he did with the flogger. "It's so good, even better than I...better than I dreamed of."

Eric couldn't talk; it was everything he could do just not to come. Her skin was flawless, milky white everywhere except where the flogger had left its soft red kisses, and as he looked down at her beautiful, round ass, raised in the air to meet his thrusts, he could see her pussy wrapped tightly around his cock, as if she never wanted to let him go.

"Are you enjoying your punishment, slave?"

"Yes," she moaned," you punish me...and fuck me...so well."

"Well, it's your fault you're getting fucked so well, I couldn't resist this perfect ass any longer," he said, squeezing her ass cheek as he drove his cock even deeper. "But I've never flogged anyone before, not even in a dream. I just tried to do it like she did."

His slave's eyes went wide with fear, and she gripped the sides of the table to try to brace herself as he kept slamming her back and forth, fucking her harder than ever. "Like who did?" she moaned.

"The other one. The other...dream siren."

"You've seen her?"

Eric stopped pumping, but his cock was still inside her as she slumped on the table, trying to catch her breath. "I dreamed of her last night. She came to me or, I guess, I went to her."

"Those marks I saw on you today...the six lashes...were those from her?"

"Yeah...in my dream she tied me up and flogged me, like I did to you. And then she grabbed me and said -- "

"By the gods," his slave whispered, "she spoke to you?!"

"Uh-huh...she said, 'Neverborn'. Do you know what that means?"

He couldn't see her face, and didn't notice the tear that rolled down her cheek. "Please tell me that you didn't eat anything she offered you..."

Eric tried to remember if he'd eaten any of the pomegranate seeds. "No...she offered...but I don't remember eating any."

His slave knew she couldn't risk waiting any longer. "Master, say that you choose me."

"Choose you? Choose you for what?"

He pushed away from her, and as his cock slid out she tried to squeeze her pussy, tried to keep him inside her, but sighed as his cock swung free. "Just say the words, say 'I choose you' and we can share your dream of pain together...forever."

"Forever? You mean until I wake up. This is just a dream, right?"

She turned and kneeled in front of him, stroking her hand back and forth on his slick shaft. "Yes...just a dream. But if you say the words I'll come to you every night, singing my song. I'll be your slave, and your dream will be my dungeon."

Eric didn't know if he could say the words, didn't know if he could choose her. The feeling of power, the feeling of domination when he'd had her bent over the table, having his way with her with both the flogger and his cock, had been amazing.

But he couldn't stop thinking of the other dream siren, his Mistress. Last night she'd only given him a taste of domination, and he wondered what it would be like to drink deeper from her cup of pain.

His slave gazed up at him, trying to read her Master's mind, and as she did she kept stroking his stiff cock and saw how purple the head was. Knowing she'd been a poor slave by talking on the table when she hadn't been given permission to, and not letting her Master come like he needed to, she tried to make amends.