Bloody Wet Dreams

"I had another one of those dreams last night." I said it in an unconcerned way, as if everyone had dreams like these.

"Really?" Jack was interested. Since the medicine change, I had been waking up "wild eyed". I kept telling him I was having frightening dreams. So I thought today would be a good day to tell him what they were about and why I thought it had to do with the medicine.

"Yep. Same as all the others. I'm having sex with a man that I don't know. As I can remember, he doesn't even have a face, well, one that doesn't leave any sort of impressions, anyway. I'm on top and right as he climaxes and arches his back, I slit his throat. Then I have an orgasm."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I really do have an orgasm in my sleep. Sis was talking about that phenomenon the other day. Apparently, not many women do that. Mom, Sis and I all do. But I don't think this is a "normal" way to have one."

"Uh, no. It's a little bit more than sick. How about gruesome?"

"How many days have I been on the new meds?"

"Let me see....um.....you went to the doctor on Wednesday, so this would be day four."

"Yep. Three nights with new meds, three messy dreams. This is one side effect I wasn't counting on."

"Should I be afraid?" Jack's eyes twinkled as he teasingly took a step back.

"I don't know, they have been awfully good orgasms!" I laughingly replied.

Seems like a normal conversation, doesn't it, albeit an odd topic, but everyone knows that switching medications causes the body and mind to transition. Sometimes it doesn't go smoothly. I have always had bloody dreams, anyway, ever since I was a little girl, except I usually died in those. Now the sex dreams with orgasms didn't start until puberty. And I had never had the blood and sex at the same time. Until now.

The next three nights were the same. Then they just stopped. Of course, I went back to not sleeping, either. Even with two sleeping pills. Damn memory. Won't let me remember anything good and just keeps replaying the horror films I call life. Even while awake.

Just as things were starting to get level and I was feeling the most normal I had in years, Jack comes in the room with me one night wanting to fight about what the kids did or didn't do and how it was my fault. It hit me hard, both emotionally and mentally. Anger boiled over; one hell of a fight ensued with him storming out of the room and me taking the van for a cool down drive away from the source of anxiety. I thought that was the right thing to do until Jack called and begged me to come home. I told him I needed to think about things and calm down, so the bastard called my Mom. She called me and I told her I was driving in the dark and didn't need to be talking but she wanted to give me a counseling session. I hung up on her. She called again. Was I going to hurt myself? Someone else? Shit! I just needed to calm down but if I had to put up with all this crap, I told her I would just go home. Jack didn't say anything and slept on the couch which was fine by me. I wasn't ready to deal with him yet.

That night I dreamed about the manager from the factory where I worked night-shift with 13 men and one other woman. The man who, on my 18th birthday, called me into his office to inform me that I was legal, of course I had no idea what he was talking about. I would soon find out. I also wasn't an union employee, therefore, if I wanted to keep my job, there were some things that were going to change. Starting that very night. From this moment on, I was to do whatever I was told, no questions asked. If not, he could, and would, fire me. Just because he could. He would also try to make certain I would not get a good referral to any other job that I applied for.

"For example, if I drop my pencil between my legs while I sit in this chair and I tell you to get it, you will." To make his point, he lifted a pencil off the desk, pushed back his chair a bit from his desk, spread his legs and dropped the pencil on the floor where it rolled a few inches under the desk.

"Fuck you." That was the only thing I could think of at the moment. I was 18, married to a senior in high school with a one year old little boy. I needed this job. It paid me way more than any fast food joint and I NEEDED the insurance.

"I intend to. Now, fetch the pencil." We stared at each other for what seemed like minutes, but I'm certain it was only seconds. He was smiling. He had me and knew it. I wasn't strong enough to fight. I had the fight knocked out of me having the baby and being a teenage wife with a cheating teenage husband whom I loved so much I could hardly breathe.

"I'm waiting." Slowly, I walked over, squatted down between his legs, reached under the desk, grabbed the pencil and slammed it down on his desk.

"From now on when you come to work, you will dress up. For me. Wear make up, but not too much. You're beautiful natural. Just need to doll you up a bit. Tomorrow, we're having breakfast, so get your little man off to the sitter early."

"No."

"Then you have no job. What's it gonna be, little girl?"

I only hesitated for a minute or so while my mind tried to wrap around what just happened or was just beginning to happen.

"I guess I'll be your whore."

"That's my girl. Now, why don't you go and do my inventories while I take a well deserved coffee break. No errors."

I couldn't believe I actually dreamed of him. After all the years, I thought I had locked him away for good. A memory no longer. I had enough to deal with handling two ex husbands, one unhappy marriage and 4 kids living in a very non-typical family situation. I didn't need skeletons falling out of my closet to taunt me. But that is what the medicine is supposed to do. Clear my mind. Now I know why people do street drugs. If someone offered me some right now, I would be tempted . I need a high. I've been low long enough. Instead, I chose not to think about Jim, the manager. He couldn't hurt me anymore .

The next few nights were typical. No sleep to be had. So, I began writing. I started a new novel about wolves, vampires, demons, angels and imps. A typical fantasy. Create your own world and you get to become God. So unlike my real world where I had no control over anything but the color of my hair. Then I started having dreams about having sex with women, more orgasms in my sleep and more chaos in my head. What was going on with me?

Mom had been wanting to go visit her sister for some time and I had agreed to go along, but she wanted to leave right now and with the changes going on with me, the fights Jack and I were having, and the dreams, I didn't think it was the best timing. I went anyway. I felt guilty backing out on her. Turns out I should have. She and I fought the whole way up. She told me she didn't even know who I was any more. I would say one thing then turn around and do something different. I had gotten tattoos and I had become so angry at life. A lot of things she said I'm certain were true, others weren't. It was a tense drive. The first day at my Aunt's got really weird. My Aunt started asking very straight forward questions about my sexuality. I admitted I was confused and had concerns I was gay or bisexual, given the dreams and fantasies I was having. She told me it was because I was so creative and not to be concerned. See, my aunt had just sold her first novel worldwide at the age of 65. She didn't want me to wait that long. She felt I had the most talent in our writing family and I should channel it more. I told her I couldn't. The stuff I was writing now wasn't fit for my family to read. She actually laughed!

"Shelly, my mother doesn't read anything I write, won't even have it in her house! Your own mother doesn't read it all. Just because it doesn't please your immediate family doesn't mean you should give up your dream of writing. I have a friend that started writing erotica to earn some money and get her name out there on a resume. Now, she has a regular fiction novel being published."

She showed me the web site and I talked with her, and Mom, about how easy it would be for me to write erotica. Mom told me if it would make my mind healthy, and give free expression to my inner chaos, she would not judge me for doing that. But my souls salvation was between God and I. I could accept that even though I knew she really couldn't.

So all in all, the trip turned out to be good. I did get a break, Mom got to visit her sister, I received some advice that I could choose to follow or ignore. The drive home was pleasant and Jack went to work on nights when I got home. I slept well being back in my own home, in my own bed. No dreams.

The next day, I looked up the press and decided I would submit something for them to review. I already had it written, all I had to do was dress it up to their specs and write a synopsis for them. I became excited about it. When Jack came home from work and took his morning nap, I went to the book store and bought a couple of fantasy magazines to see if any of my short stories would be a good fit. I was pleasantly surprised to find that mine were good fits. So, I had one press to send in an erotica story and two magazines to send in a couple of my fantasy short stories. I couldn't wait to tell Jack all about it. We discussed me writing erotica and how he would feel about me submitting work under a pen name. He didn't mind at all and agreed that no one in the family needed to know. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he asked if I would use him for research! It was the best I had felt in such a long time.

Then I had the dream.

I was with Jim, the manager. The bastard womanizer from work. We were having sex. I was on top moving up and down, keeping perfect time with him. His eyes were closed, his hands on my hips, guiding me to suit his pleasure. I could tell he was getting close to climax as he increased the pace, pulling me down on him harder and harder, forcing himself into me deeper and deeper. Just before he climaxed, he opened his eyes, each hand taking a breast, squeezing as he arched into me. Filling me with his poison. I leaned down, whispered in his ear, begging him not to stop, that I was so close to cumming. He groaned with pleasure for I had never begged him before and it made him feel even more of a man than fucking an 18 year old.

I sat back up straight and began to move against his hardness again, only faster. I was getting what I wanted this time. His eyes were glued to my chest as he toyed with my breasts as they rose and fell. I could feel the moment rising within me.

"Oh, Jim......oh, god....." I moaned his name just as my body began to contact and quiver around him. That's when I took the razor I had been clinching in my right hand and slid it into, and across, his throat. His blood began to pour out of the cut. His hands immediately went to his wound, but I didn't stop grinding. Watching the terror in his eyes only made the orgasm more intense. He began to writhe beneath me, trying to push me away. I leaned down and whispered in his ear. "I don't think I made the cut deep enough. Here, let me help you with that." I raised my blood soaked hand but he grasped my wrist with both his hands as he tried to push me away.

"You're too weak to fight me, Jim. Just as I was too weak to fight you in the beginning. But you didn't realize that each and every time you fucked me, you thought you were making me more your slave, but you only made me hate you more, therefore, making me stronger. Now, you will die and I will enjoy watching you. I will bathe in your blood." I shivered and threw back my head, moaning at the thought of it. "It will be the best sex I will have ever had, and it will be all thanks to you. But, do you want to die slowly, gasping and swallowing your own blood? Trying to push me off but being too weak? Or do you want me to make the cut a little bit deeper so you will suffer less? Either way, I get what I want."

His terror filled eyes were beginning to turn glassy as slowly his hands slid free of my arm.

"Ask me for it, Jim. Ask me to go deeper. Just like you told me to ask you to fuck me harder. I want to hear it."

"P lea s e....dee eep er." His voice was gurgled with his own blood. He choked. The force spew blood onto my chest.

"That's a good boy." Slowly, I took the razor and slipped it into the same wound. I pushed hard and deep. I grew flush with pleasure at hearing him moan in pain. Slowly I drug the killing instrument across his throat as he bucked beneath me. Amazingly, and for reasons I don't even care to understand, he was still erect and hard as a rock when he went into his final death throws. I could feel the ultimate climax rising inside me. Dipping my hand in his free flowing blood, I rubbed it all over my breasts and belly, tasting it's richness from the tips of my fingers, just as he had done the first time he rammed his fingers deep into my vagina, only he wasn't tasting blood, he was enjoying whatever sex juices he had managed to incite. Then he became still and quiet. That was the moment I had longed for. My body became rapt with pleasure, quivering, shivering and contracting as my juices flowed onto his dead body and intermingled with the blood that had flowed down from his wound to kiss my womanhood.

Exhausted, I rolled off of him onto my side of the bed and allowed the pleasures to slowly fade away as I slipped into a peaceful slumber knowing I would never have to please a man against my will again. I had taken this time instead of given. And it was good. Very good.

The birds singing outside our window woke me from my deep sleep. I lay still for a moment before opening my eyes, the horror of the dream coming back to me. But there was more. I felt I had defeated that demon and he would be unable to possess me any longer. I was free of him.

"I had that dream again last night, Jack. Only this time, it was worse."

I waited for him to answer me before I opened my eyes and turned to look and see if he was awake. He was staring straight at me, his dead eyes glazed, cold. Terror began to well up inside of me as I saw the blood soaked sheets, the gaping wound at his throat and felt my tight grip on the razor in my right hand.

Yes, I had defeated the demon inside of my head. And birthed him into reality. I had become the monster who preyed on the weak. For the first time I felt what Jim had felt all along. The joy of the hunt. The thrill of the kill. Only now, I was no longer the prey and I could feel the pleasure begin to rise within me...