In Dreams, Dominance Pt. 07

This is the final chapter of this story. All characters are over eighteen.

***

It was disturbing how much I indulged in self-pity.

I drove back home in a miasma of misery. My parents had learned the details from the college, of course. I had briefly entertained notions of somehow ensuring that they would never found out; training the Dean with my power or somehow searching their dreams for blackmail material. Too long, too slow, even if my power wasn't on the fritz. I was learning the hard way that I wasn't a god, I wasn't a superhuman; I was a loser with a single useful trick.

I drove through three states agonising precisely what I would tell my parents and sister. At no point did I think about what had happened to Tara; what she was going through, what she had suffered-

-You used to be a good guy-

No. I didn't let myself think. Didn't allow myself to feel anything other than righteous anger at the girl who had ruined my fun. The only fun I had left in my life. The only thing I had left at all.

It was, in all honesty, a miracle that I didn't crash on the trip home considering how drunk I was in self-righteous misery.

My family was waiting for me. Mom and Dad were sympathetic in the way that only parents in denial can be. They talked about how they knew that obviously I'd done nothing wrong; I in turn spun a story about a girl who had said yes but then retracted her consent afterwards. Mom and Dad were old-school conservatives, and the story I told fit with the narrative of the angry liberal feminist college girls they were comfortable with. And my sister Heidi...

Heidi said she believed me. But there was a look in her eyes as she smiled and a tenseness as she hugged me that I did not like.

My parents probably thought that I would settle down and find a job in town. That I would work to get my life back on track. I didn't. I sat in my room and I festered. I didn't know what do to. Correction: I didn't know how to fix this with my dreams. I spent a few nights trying to find Tara but the shock of the rape charges had killed whatever lust I had felt for her. So, denied my revenge, I sat in my room. I Watched violent pornography, jerking off to images and pictures that were pale reflections of what I had once indulged in nightly. I snapped at my parents; I eyed my younger sister with open contempt. I slept throughout the day and the night.

I got restless. I got bored. I got horny.

And that's partly why I did what I did.

Heidi was my younger sister. I'd noticed that she'd grown up pretty- and she was pretty, with auburn hair and a pleasant figure as well as a smattering of freckles on her face- but she was my sister. I'd fought with her, looked out for her when she started high school, hung out with her. The old me was comfortable with her. The old me cared about her. The old me would never have hurt her.

The old me was gone and I looked at her with new, predatory eyes. My self-imposed exile meant that I didn't have much of the way of opportunity to go after fresh meat and my sister- my pretty sister with her nice, large breasts and her cute button-nose face- well, she was a walking, talking temptation.

Even then I might have resisted. Might have at least tried to resist, might have tried to fight back the waves of lust that I felt every time she wandered into my view. Might have left things alone.

If it wasn't for those looks. Those strange, unreadable looks she gave me whenever I was in the room. The way she excused herself when we were alone together. The way she would stop halfway through her sentences, the way she seemed to linger on the other side of the room when we were together as a family.

Who did she think she was? What did she think she was doing, judging me like that? Didn't she understand she was just a girl? Didn't she understand that it wasn't her place? Didn't she grasp that I was superior?

A lesson was in order. And so it was that I went to bed one night fully intending to teach it.

***

Heidi got into the shower, sighing. She turned on the taps and let the steaming water pour over her body-

"Heidi."

She whirled around. What was her brother doing here? "You shouldn't be here!"

"It's okay," he said. "It's fine. You asked me to come in here, didn't you?"

She paused. She...she'd asked him to come in here. Yes. She had. She frowned, covering herself up. "Fine. But stop looking."

"But you want me to look. Don't you remember? You told me..."

She shivered, biting her lip. Of course. Of course she'd finally confessed her perverted feelings to him. And he'd come! She smiled. "Are- are you sure you want to do this?"

He laughed as he took off his clothes. For a moment she frowned as his skinny, pale body was revealed to her- did she really want this? With her own brother? What on earth had possessed her to go and do this? What if their parents found out? What if they got pregnant? What if-

He smiled as his cock came out, pale and long and slender. A wave of warm lust settled over her, the dream logic vanishing away her worries as though they'd never existed. All that was left was the fantasy of illicit love; a fantasy and a growing hunger between her legs. She opened up the transparent screen door, shivering with anticipation. "I can't believe we're actually going to do this."

"I can." He laughed and she laughed with him and that seemed to make him laugh even harder, his pale cock bobbing ahead of him as he entered the shower. The two of them stood in the tiny, water-filled space; not quite touching, not quite willing to go the extra step. She watched as his smile faded, his movements hesitant, saw him struggling to take that final step-

She reached out to touch his shoulder and the contact jolted him out of his strange uncertainty. He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer. Her full boobs pressed against his skinny chest and he bent down, their lips parting...

The kiss wasn't all that special. It was short and gentle and soft and hesitant, but the illicit thrill of her hidden incestuous need sent a ripple of arousal flooding through her body. The next kiss was hot and heavy and gloriously sexual, their tongues dancing as water trickled down their naked bodies. Her brother's hands explored her, cupping her ass, trailing across her stomach, moving up to softly kneed her breasts. He was so much more experienced than she would have guessed after just one year away from college. He must have been with lots of girls.

They parted, panting. His erection pressed against her stomach and she reached down to stroke his length. As she did a burst of lustful joy shot from her pussy, as though his pleasure had become hers. He kissed her again as he continued his assault on her body; touching, caressing, stroking and pinching.

She lost track of time underneath the spray as they pleasured each other. Reality dissolved into his hands and his mouth and that furnace of joy between her legs that swelled and swelled but never exploded into completion. Time and time again he eased her hands off his cock, whispering that he was on the verge of cumming and wanted to hold off; time and time again she waited until her hands returned to please him anew. And all the time he murmured into her ear, hot whispers that seemed to slide straight into her brain.

"You want to fuck me."

"Fucking your brother is hot."

"You're addicted to my touch."

"Incest feels so right when it's me."

Over and over again in between hot kisses, merging and mixing with the hot lust until it became a strange mantra that settled into her bones. After some time- minutes? Hours? Long after the water should have run cold, long after they should have been discovered- he pulled away. She was gasping, wide-eyed, her mind turned to mush after edging for so long and so when he picked her up and pressed her against the wall of the shower, when he lined his magnificent cock up against her lower lips she didn't argue or protest; merely spread her legs wide open and begged him to do it.

He plunged into her and the shock of the friction, coupled with the knowledge that it was her brother's cock inside of her, unprotected and fertile, tipped her over the edge and she felt him cum immediately inside her just as her own orgasms smashed through her, obliterating her thoughts along with the world around them-

***

I remember when she was little. When she looked up to me. When I protected her from bullies at school. I remember the way we used to team up together in family games, us against our parents.

Heidi the Egyptian Princess Heidi shivered as she entered her brother's chambers. She toyed with the hem of her near-transparent silken skirt as she bowed low. "My brother- and king-to-be," she began. "We are of the sacred bloodline and we are expected to marry to keep the divinity pure. But...but I am not sure how I would be able to perform my wifely duties on the wedding night."

"It is just as well," said her brother, rising from his seat, "That we have ample time to practice now. Undress yourself sister and get on the bed. I will show you everything you will need to know..."

I remember the way I felt when she started to date; that mix of possessiveness and protectiveness that any older brother would feel. The sense that she was as special person and that she deserved someone good. Someone who would treat her right.

Heidi blinked. Then she went bright red. "Oh my god."

Barry sat down, laughing. "Wait- are you my blind date?"

How had this happened? Had someone guessed her dirty little secret? That she'd fantasised about dating her own older brother? About doing all sorts of other naughty things with her older brother? She swallowed, rising. "Someone made a mistake-"

And then he laughed, eyes burning with a cruel sort of amusement. "Tell you what," he said. "Let's enjoy ourselves. Enjoy our date. Who knows where the evening will end?"

Heidi allowed hope- hope and something else, hot and eager between her legs- to surge as he reached out and took her hand. She would show her brother she was the right girl for him. She would do anything to show him...

And it mattered. I could feel the weight of it pressing against me; worse than with Tara, worse than the others. Even when I fucked her in my dreams, even when I put her through scenario after scenario designed to enslave her to my will and turn her into just another piece of ass, it dug into me like a splinter into my brain.

Movement at the dark doorway. The sounds of someone entering her room. Heidi shifted under the covers. "Are they asleep yet?"

A laugh. "Yep. Out like a light." He slid into the covers next to her. Skin on skin; both of them were naked. She giggled at the thought of her older brother walking down the halls, his cock already hard, as he snuck into her room.

Madness. But it was madness that neither of them could stop. Every few nights he would come to her. She remembered how she'd refused at first; called him a pervert. But then he'd shown her how wonderful his cock was and that was that. She was addicted. She was addicted to his cock.

She moaned softly as his hands explored her body under the covers. Sighed as he bent down to kiss her breasts, her shoulders, her lips, before moving lower. Down, down, soft kisses on her stomach, until he reached her lower lips.

She bit the back of her hand as he feasted on her down there, slowly writhing and tensing as the pleasure came in waves. His hands moved up to pinch and stroke her nipples, proving jolts of joy to the glorious sensations his tongue brought between her legs. And all the time she thought about the pleasure he brought her; how she was addicted to him; how right it was that the two of them be lovers. How her body belonged to him.

Eventually he rose, grinning. She was wet- sopping wet, wet enough to stain the sheets with her desire- and it was easy for him to slide inside her. Her pussy was familiar with the joys his cock would bring and she readily wrapped her legs around his waist as he began to pump in and out of her. She loved her brother. She loved his cock. She found their mutual incest so hot...

But it didn't make me stop.

***

What it did do was irritate me. And so when Heidi began to give me long, lingering stares, when she hesitated around me, when she began to ask me- in soft, uncertain tones- about my romantic life out in college, it made me hesitate.

I didn't want to hesitate. I wanted to conquer her. I wanted my sister on her knees, begging for my cock. I wanted to make the awful feelings go away. I wanted things to be simple. I wanted to feel powerful again. And I didn't understand why I couldn't just use my sister to get those things.

I buried myself into my dreams even as I withdrew utterly from life. I didn't speak to my parents outside of meals. Barely even talked to my sister, even though I knew that I should be laying down the groundwork for her eventual subjugation in the real world as much as the fake one.

I wanted to claim her. I wanted her left alone. I wanted to vanish into the fantasies of my dreams and never, ever return. I wanted-

I just wanted to stop feeling bad.

And so when my parents went out, when my sister suggested a movie night together, I agreed.

I went out to find her dressed in a pale white shirt and tiny shorts. She wore no bra and her pink nipples were clearly visible through the pale, thin fabric. She suggested a bunch of films; action flicks and steamy erotic thrillers; horror movies and more. I told her that they all sounded good and sat down.

It was strange, to look at her fumbling efforts knowing that I was the architect behind them. The way she tried to ply me with drinks, downing a handful herself to buff up her courage. The frightened uncertainty she could not quite get out of her voice she talked about the films. The way she pressed up against me, the way she toyed with her shirt, doing her best to show off her cleavage. The way she asked me about how many girls I've been with in college.

We drifted closer and closer until he pressed against each other; until my arm gently pressed against her full breasts. I knew those breasts, knew the touch and heft of them, knew the way they dimpled underneath my grasp. I felt my cock stiffen in anticipation. I was going to claim her. I was going to claim her and then- and then-

"I know they were wrong."

"What?"

She looked up at me and smiled. "I know that they were wrong about you. You're not like that. Not a bad person."

Bad? I was a conqueror.

She sighed and leant against me. I could smell the alcohol on her breath. She peered up at me with eyes hazy with desire. "I know you. I know you'd never do anything like that."

I'd done much worse, had enjoyed it. Revelled in it. Made it who I was.

"You're the best person I know."

I was an enslaver. A rapist. I-

"I love you." She leant in for the kiss-

And I broke.

I broke at last.

I pushed her away, shuddering, as something inside of me- something I had buried, something I had forgotten- woke at long last. It roared and it twisted and it clawed away at me with a sudden, terrifying strength. It lashed and screamed and devoured me from within.

I don't remember much of what happened for the rest of the night. I remember crying; not a gentle weeping but the sort of sobbing where the misery pours out of your body like waterfall of poison, like a fire devouring a house. I remember babbling things to her. Confessions. Apologies. Incoherent and confused. But enough.

Enough that she understood, if not the details, then the basics. That her brother was a monster. That I had done the things that they had said about me and worse. That she was being manipulated.

She ran. Left the house. I don't know where she went. I never saw her again.

The next morning I packed my things. Got on a bus and left my town. Left everything.

That was the end.

Rule Sixteen: There was always going to be a price.

***

It was also the beginning.

I spent the next year on the edge of homelessness. I took awful jobs, in factories and service stations and places that were one step removed from sweat shops. I slept in tiny beds or on couches or on floors. I worked until I ached while petty tyrants- bosses, customers, random idiots- heaped abuse on me.

I didn't complain. Didn't do more than lower my head and worked. I did not dream.

There were opportunities. A woman with more tits than patience who was a regular at the restaurant where I was a busboy. A coworker in a packing plant who's English was poor but had a pretty face. A sister of a guy who's house I stayed in. She was sweet and kind and gentle and pale. I spent three nights in the labyrinth of dreams stalking her before I managed to wrest control back from my darker urges.

It was a full year before I managed to achieve something like stability. Poor stability- the sort of poverty that I doubt I was ever going to escape from- but it was something. I found people who were friends- not women, I was never going to trust myself around a woman ever again- but decent enough. It wasn't peace, though. It wasn't escape from the guilt.

After some time- I don't really remember how long- I decided to do something about that.

It took a lot of experimentation. A lot of restless nights where I wandered the labyrinths of the dreamland, searching. Time and distance may have played a part. Or perhaps not; I suspect my own terrors did not help. But I kept at it, night after night, until I had my first success.

Rule Seventeen: It is not only desire that allows you access to other's dreams. Any sufficiently strong emotion will suffice- if you want it badly enough.

I found Tanya Jennings. The girl who had been my first- albeit unwitting- victim. And then I got to work.

***

Tanya lay in bed while someone- Barry? A boy she had slept with once, a boy she sometimes thought about- knelt down beside her. He stared down at her with eyes that were old and sad.

He bent down and murmured, "You aren't attracted to me. I'm not someone you need to ever care about. You aren't attracted to me..."

It was easy- at least for her. The damage that I had done to her mind was relatively light. It made it easier, despite my relative inexperience, to undo it.

I don't think it really made that much of a difference to her life. Her lust for me had faded into something resembling a pleasant memory; a guilty pleasure about the time she'd fucked a near-stranger in an abandoned lecture room. I removed it- through soft, gentle words as I held her close- little by little until even that faint touch was gone.

"Are you back at last?" Diana asked. "Are we finally going to go out again?"

Barry took her hand. "You don't want to date me. I was awful for you. You deserve better. You don't want to date me-"

D was harder. I'd been thorough in my influences, pressing the need to date me deep into her mind. She still ached for me on a bone-deep level; had twisted her mind into knots trying to resolve the discrepancy between my dreaming influence and reality of how poorly we fit. It might not have been ruining her life but it was still an unhealed wound in her psyche. And so I worked on removing that need, that obsession with me. Night after night of whispered words that undid my training, untangling it from her desires until it faded away. She went through her life thinking me as nothing more than a mistake- a loser she'd been infatuated with once upon a time. As it was. As it should be.