Tom and Gabby Ch. 08 - The Dream

But when we got together and we talked about it, she helped me realise that the idea of having kids had only been negative because it could've happened with Gabby. Having kids with Linda is going to be a fantastic experience," Tom had rationalised. "We weren't trying for a baby yet, but fate clearly had other plans for us. We're still getting Gabby settled into her life sentence, which keeps us both busy. I'm sure, when we break the news to her, once she's gotten over the initial shock of it, she'll be happy for us too," he'd pulled an ominous expression.

"Gabrielle doesn't know yet?" the newsreader had commented, lowering her voice. "How do you think she's going to take it?"

Tom had scoffed. "We've agreed to wait until a time when she's...amenable before we break the news," he'd mused. "We'll probably put her on the dining table and help her to relax with the wand. The last thing we want is any dramatic outbursts. We doubt she'll take it well. She can get very hostile about things that she perceives as Linda being superior at. Carrying my child is going to go down like a lead balloon in that regard," he'd estimated.

"But I thought you said she never wanted children?" Linda had quizzed, confusedly.

"That's just what she told people, Lind," Tom had imparted. "She didn't always feel that way."

Linda had looked dumfounded at his revelation and had looked to Tom for more explanation.

"She'll throw a right strop when she finds out I'm telling you this, but Gabby wanted a baby for a while. It was a phase she went through, just after we'd moved onto the barracks. She was surrounded by other army wives, who all had families, or were starting them, and I guess she wanted it too. The same way she suddenly wanted me, the moment she knew that you and I were together," he'd revealed.

"Why have you never told me this before?" Linda had demanded, looking almost excited at the news.

"Because nothing ever came of it," Tom had replied. "After a few months of negative tests, Gabby started getting defensive about it. She totally changed her stance on the issue, and started telling people she didn't want kids. I reckon it was all a defence mechanism to avoid having to face issues about her fertility," he'd continued, unabashedly. "She doesn't think I know. But I think the idea of you and me having a child together, something else she failed at, is going to be like a slap in the face for her," he'd predicted.

"I'm hardly going to gloat about it, am I? When do I ever do that to her?" Linda had said, feigning empathy.

"Of course, you wouldn't," Tom had reassured her. "We'll figure it all out, like we have with everything else. I think the priority needs to be remaining vigilant. We don't want to create any opportunities for her to...lash out."

He'd been very clear in his implication.

Anyone with any intelligence could have understood what he'd been inferring.

Linda had smiled. "Of course. If needs be, she can be kept in a perpetual, endless tirade of orgasms, can't she?

It worked after she tried to run away. Between that and the fucking machine. I won't let Gabrielle get in the way of our happiness."

"I'd never let that happen," Tom had promised.

"And then," Linda had giggled, playfully. "When we decide we're ready for another, we can include her when we conceive. Have her watching as you get me pregnant again?" Linda had maliciously depicted, before placing her hand onto Tom's crotch, cupping his cock possessively.

The newsreader had laughed at the notion. "What an ingenious idea! It's no wonder that the British public are so supportive of Gabrielle's sentence being served with you both. You're inspirational, truly."

Tom and Linda had grinned back, accepting the compliment.

"Thank you again for appearing on the show and for giving people a firsthand insight into Gabrielle's sentence with you," the newsreader had gushed. "You're such a beautiful, perfect couple. I'm in absolute awe of you both. Please continue the good work you're doing with Gabrielle; she deserves everything you're doing to her."

***

I wake up, panting for breath, drenched in sweat.

I can't remember ever having had a nightmare as vivid as the one I've just woken from.

I wrack my mind to try and recall what I'd been thinking about in the moments before I fell asleep last night. It must have been something unsettling to have caused my mind to depict such a disturbing mental scenario. Certain details of the nightmare continue to plague me, even though I'm awake now and reassuring myself that none of it was real. I find Tom's disclosure of intimate secrets from our marriage on national television and the idea of Linda being pregnant to be some of the worst themes of my unconscious imaginings. As well as the apparent hatred of a nation for my unsatisfactory performance as a wife to Tom.

As I orient myself, I notice Tom standing beside my camp bed, looking down on me interestedly, appearing to be watching me as I wake up. I narrow my eyes.

"It looks like someone was having a good dream, Gabby?" he asks amusedly, raising his eyebrows.

"No," I grumble tetchily, trying to analyse what he might mean, before realising, in disgust, that I'm in a most precarious position in the bed. My knees are bent up slightly, wide open, as much as is possible within the bed restraints and my back and hips are arched upward. My nightmare clearly had physical manifestations.

I slowly compose myself, flattening down against the mattress, and am mortified to feel that the insides of my thighs are soaked wet.

I shuffle uncomfortably. The dream was horrible, yet my physiological responses are those of arousal.

I don't understand myself sometimes.

"What have you been thinking about overnight?" Tom questions, interrupting my moment of contemplation.

He says it with an arrogant smugness, almost as if he can see into my brain and rummage through my thoughts.

I ignore him while I stretch my legs out, positioning myself into a more dignified placing. The metal hooks of the restraints chink.

I'm grateful for the modicum of cover that the duvet provides. I'm certain that Tom would misinterpret the wetness between my thighs if he could see it. I don't have a reasonable explanation for it myself.

He waits patiently for an answer, his eyes boring into me, pressuring me to speak.

"I can't remember," I lie, looking up at him, hopeful that he'll accept this, and drop his inquisition.

"You can't remember?" Tom repeats disbelievingly, and sighs loudly.

"I've been standing here for a while. You were practically humping your sheets in your sleep, and you can't remember what got you into that state? Come on Gabby. You'll have to do better than that. Think about it for a second and try again," he advises.

I gulp, nervous at his calculating demeanour, realising that he has no intention of letting the matter go.

"Is anything coming back to you?" Tom asks again, eerily calm.

"No. Honestly," I respond, stammering my words slightly but determined to not divulge the details of my dystopian dream to him. I'm sure that it'd be used against me somehow.

Linda strides into the room, casually dressed in a denim skirt and black vest top.

"Is she awake yet?" she asks Tom, pacing over and stopping just behind him.

"Yeah, she's coming round," Tom answers, letting her wrap her arms around his back, tenderly.

"You should have seen the way I found her Lind. I didn't wake her up straightaway. She was writhing around, all kinds of excited. And what's even more weird, is the amnesia she's woken up with about what got her like that," he remarks, incredulously.

Linda snakes her way around from behind him to study me.

"She's soaked with sweat," she observes. "You don't think she spent the whole night trying to 'get at herself', do you?"

Tom looks at her with an ambiguous expression.

She offers no warning before reaching down and tearing the duvet up and off me, casting it to the side of the bed. The restraints prevent me from stopping her.

She quickly scans my arms and legs, and after checking that I'm still bound, she bends down, reaching between my thighs and easing my pussy open. She spreads my lips to examine between them.

"What a mess," she murmurs, referring to my sodden state.

Tom leans in to see for himself and tuts.

"It's natural to wake up wet sometimes, isn't it Lind?" he asks, curiously.

"Of course it is baby," Linda responds, straightening.

"It's normal to have kinky dreams and wake up wanting to fuck, isn't it?" Tom expands.

"Perfectly normal," she replies. "Those are the mornings where you wake up with my mouth round your cock," Linda replies.

"You must have a lot of kinky dreams Lind," Tom smiles. "Is it normal and natural for you to forget what you've been dreaming about on mornings like that?"

"No, not really," Linda confirms, her mouth curling into a subtle smirk.

"I thought not. And by that logic, you'd think Gabby would remember a dream that'd made her have such a...powerful response, wouldn't you? I mean, whatever she was imagining was enough to make her squirm and sweat. And for her cunt to flood like that?" Tom tests.

"I think she knows exactly what she was dreaming about. Her determination to hide it makes it all the more interesting," Linda suggests, and looks down at me with an excited sparkle in her eyes.

"Yeah, that's the part I'm stuck on," Tom agrees. "I'm thinking that she was either dreaming about something so perverse that she's ashamed of it. Or something she really shouldn't be dreaming about."

The sentiment is maddening. He and Linda have seized control of every aspect of my life. Now they're wanting to control my dreams too?

Linda unstraps my restraints and resumes her position beside Tom. They stand together looking down on me.

I feel uncomfortably scrutinised. I'm hardly in a flattering position, lying naked on the camp bed, having just woken up.

"Is anything coming back to you yet Gabby?" Tom prompts me again, appearing to want to prevent the situation from escalating into anything further.

Instead of submitting and disclosing the information they want, I double down, defensively. "No."

"Alright," he exhales, sounding marginally disappointed. "Get yourself downstairs into the dining room then. Let's see if the wand can help with your memory problems," he instructs.

I rise from the camp bed and they stand aside to let me pass.

I go down the stairs quickly, looking at the front door when I reach the bottom step, wondering if by some chance they've made a mistake with the keys again. No such luck.

"Have you forgotten where the dining room is Gabrielle?" Linda's voice sounds sternly from the top of the stairs.

I turn into the dining room, wracking my brain to try and think of something to tell them. Tom's comment about shame wasn't entirely wrong. I am ashamed of the dream I had. More by the reaction I seemed to have in response to it.

I'm nauseous at the thought of explaining it to them. I loathe the thought of something I unconsciously dreamt about serving as validation for their relationship. Or worse, for them to be able to surmise that I somehow feel I deserve the things they do to me.

I sit myself on the edge of the dining table, as is expected of me now, and wait for them to come downstairs, which doesn't take long.

Linda is proudly brandishing one of the lifelike dildos, a particularly gnarly looking thing, thick and veined, similar to the one the newsreader had been admiring in my dream. An unfortunate coincidence.

Tom walks forward to push me back flat, and Linda makes for the sideboard, while he affixes me in place. He's meticulous about fastening each strap, doing it slowly and carefully, though he could probably do it with his eyes closed by now.

When I'm strapped secure, he walks around to the foot of the table, where Linda is now standing. He puts his arm around her. They look almost proud of what they're doing. She snuggles into his embrace, and they pose like this for a few moments, reminding me of their united togetherness.

Linda is the first of them to step forward, moving the microphone stand into the necessary position and bending the arm down. She flattens the head of the wand against me, then flicks the switch on.

Gentle and tolerable vibrations start, before she clicks again to increase their intensity. I try to thrash but the binds stop me, turning me into a helpless victim to whatever interrogation methods take their fancy.

I'm still flummoxed as to why the contents of my dream matter so much. Haven't they taken enough from me? Why can't they just let my dreams be the one thing of my own?

My eyes flicker open and closed, and I breathe deeply.

The vibrations are too much on this setting.

Tom and Linda usually reserve these vibrations for when they feel I've done something truly awful. My failed escape last week warranted the high setting. I struggle to see how a lapse in memory compares to that.

I see Tom rolling a smoke at the end of the table. His face is devoid of emotion, but he occasionally glances up to watch Linda leading the punishment.

It's clear that she knows he's watching her. At one point, in what seems like an attempt to impress him, she forces the wand harder against my slit and holds it there, causing me to writhe in a flustered frenzy. The vibrations feel as though they're rattling down through my pelvis.

"Tom and I were up early this morning Gabrielle," she taunts. "I did us a cooked breakfast, which Tom really enjoyed, didn't you baby?" She likes to boast about things she does for him like this. Another annoying detail of my dream had been her denial of doing this.

"I fucking did Lind. It was the perfect way to start a day," Tom commends.

"What's he like, eh Gabrielle?" she grins. "Then again, I suppose he's still getting used to having a woman who's happy to make his breakfast for him. You were never really the domestic kind, were you?" she asks, pointedly.

Similar moments from last night's dream spring into my mind.

I admit to never cooking breakfast for Tom. It had never fallen into my repertoire of things to do for him. It'd never been an issue between us until this moment, apparently.

Even if I were able to answer her, I'd choose not to.

"After breakfast, we had some coffee and watched the news together. There's nothing really interesting happening in the world today. The prime minister gave a statement about something. To be honest, we weren't really listening. I don't think anyone really watches the news anymore, do they?" she muses.

Her comment is pointed. Could I have suddenly begun sleep talking last night?

I expect if my dream ever manifested into reality, people might pay more attention to the news.

"I started teasing Tom after a few minutes," Linda tells me. "I opened my legs nice and wide so that he could see under my skirt and then I started touching myself," she continues. "I wasn't wearing any underwear and it didn't take him long to notice me. He couldn't tear his eyes away, watching my fingers work their way around my pussy, dipping in and out, spreading my juices up and down my slit," she describes.

"You were absolutely dripping by the time I got to you," Tom murmurs, remembering fondly.

"I looked right into his eyes as I was teasing him Gabrielle. I didn't break eye contact once. And I knew, even without looking down that his cock was getting bulging as he watched me. It was so hard; it was pushing to try and get out of his shorts. I love knowing that I have that effect in him," she brags, shamelessly.

"I waited until I saw him stroking it over the material, and then do you know what he did?" she waits, though can't seriously be expecting a response from me.

"He pulled it out and showed me how turned on I'd gotten him. As soon as I saw it there, hungry and waiting for me, I slid down onto the floor, crawled over and got onto my knees in front of him.

I started by licking up and down his shaft, from the tip to the base. He loves it when I do that. His veins were bulging, he was aching, but I carried on teasing for a while, circling my tongue around the head of his cock, making him breathe hard before slipping my lips around it and slowly working my way down the whole length. I made my mouth tight as I swallowed it. Tom loves a nice, tight hole. He never got anything tight from you, did he?" she torments.

"I took his whole cock, right down my throat. It drives you crazy when I do that, doesn't it baby?" she involves Tom in her game.

"Linda knows exactly what I like Gabby," Tom lauds.

"I slowly worked my way back up his shaft, before I went back down and pressed the tip of his cock against my tonsils again. It didn't take long until I felt him starting to build up, and he started moaning. And you know what I did then?" she asks, ensuring that the wand has me fixed in a torturous over pleasured stasis, hanging onto her every word.

Her skill in pleasuring Tom with her mouth absolutely dwarfs mine, even on occasions when I'd tried my hardest to do it the way he'd wanted.

"I stopped. There's no point rushing pleasure, is there?" she reveals and lifts the wand off and away from me, maliciously.

I gasp in frustration and relief, in equal measure. Tom sniggers.

"What were you dreaming about last night Gabrielle?" Linda asks, wanting to take advantage of my indignation.

"I can't remember," I choke out, croakily.

"That's alright. It'll come back," Linda smiles, and replaces the wand against me, turning it down to the lower setting.

"How long was I sucking your cock for baby? Three quarters of an hour?" she calls over to Tom.

"It must've been about fifty minutes Lind," Tom responds. "Fifty minutes of building me up and bringing me back down again. It was fucking intense."

I feel as though his words are a dig at me, despite being an answer to Linda.

"I brought him right to the edge, over and over and over again Gabrielle," she depicts. "And then I let the pleasure deescalate and started building him up again. The best kind of cums happen that way.

When I saw the tip of his cock glistening with precum, and all his veins pulsing, I knew he was ready, and I gulped down his cock with long, deep, slow strokes, until I felt his legs shaking with pleasure. I'd have liked for you to have seen it up close Gabrielle," she tells me. "It's something you never experienced in your years of being married to Tom, isn't it? His raw pleasure. The kind of pleasure that takes effort and skill to achieve.

Every muscle in his body tensing up, preparing for his climax. Those few seconds before it happens. And then the sheer pressure that his cum squirts out at. Jet after jet of it. A metric fuck-tonne of his hot spunk. Right down my throat for me to swallow. Mmm. I can still taste it now."

I hear Tom licking his lips from the other side of the room and open my eyes to look at him. Linda starts to circle with the wand, and I scrunch my eyes shut again, gripping for the edges of the tabletop.

"After he'd cum, Tom looked down at me, and smiled," Linda continues. "He stood up, pulled his shorts back up and picked me up from the floor, then put me down onto the sofa. He knelt down in front of me and spread my legs open with his hands, before slowly leaning his head in between my thighs and started to flick his tongue over my clit. I wrapped my legs around his head, and he started brought his tongue down and pushed it inside my pussy. He knows I love it when he does that. He kept going, lapping at me hungrily until I couldn't hold back anymore. Tom knew when I was getting close and he slowed right down, letting the pleasure build. He held my hips steady and used just the right kind of strokes to make me moan his name, before I came all over his face and beard," she boasts, gleefully.