Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. If you're under 18, this is not for you; skip or erase the file. Stay in school. Marry for love. Say no to drugs. Abstain. The following is a work of fiction containing scenes of graphic sex of various kinds, most of which are nc, kinky, and/or downright weird. The actions depicted are not from or for real life. Content is my own (Monocle), copyright 2004, (as are the typos, and spelling & grammar errors). Any resemblance to persons or events living or dead or stories already written is purely coincidence. The reader is free and welcome to copy and circulate this file in free legal forums, as long as this disclaimer is included and no alterations to it or the content are made. Hope you like it. Monocle --------------------------------- Nightmares and Visions (76-80) by Monocle nc various caution Short vignettes and scenes. Most have the darker elements of nc, bond, etc. =|;-{ Feedback to: monocle_o@NOTTHIS.hotmail.com Other stories from Monocle can be found at: Web: https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/www/ ftp: www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/ ---------------------------------- Nightmares and Visions 76-80 by Monocle Some time ago, I started receiving strange, short e-mails from anonymous addresses by parties unknown. I don't know who or what these people are, whether or not some or all are the same person. Most subjects read as "my nightmare" or "A dream I didn't tell to my husband" or "Vision Number 3". They start with little or no pre-amble, often don't really end. ------------ 76. I lurch slightly in the dark, and feel myself carried some distance to the right before the motion stops, like I'm lyiing on some kind of conveyor belt. The metal noise of machinery continues, but the other sounds are coming clearer and closer after each movement. Those sounds are high pitched voices raised in confusion - and fear. The most distant voices are cries and screams, and they too are getting closer each time I move. It is dark and close, where I lie, like I imagine a coffin might be. It feels like I wouldn't be able to move much even if my wrists, ankles, and waist weren't cuffed or strapped to the padded surface beneath me. Another hum and sway as I am moved again, and the top and sides of my casket suddenly lift off and I am dazzled by light and sound. I look to my right and shriek. Several women lie ahead of me, on the wide belt all in various states of hysteria. We are all naked. Just to my right, shining metallic armatures are repositioning my immediate neighbor's legs, spreading them wide open. Beyond that, a complex, massive machine lowering into position between the next woman's splayed legs. I can't see beyond her, where the screams were loudest... ------------ 77. At least they let me shiver. Everything else they stop - and punish. I know it's a "them" because if I open my eyes I see people all around me just before a hand covers my eyes again. Then someone pinches my nipple or slaps at my thigh until I close my eyes, the the covering goes away. If I try to talk, ask questions, or complain, a hand covers my mouth, and someone pulls un-gently at my pubic hair or some other minor pain until I quiet down. Then my mouth is uncovered. If I try to move my arms from my side, or close my widely spread legs, hands grab the moving limbs and put them back where they were, and my breasts, or pussy get slapped shortly, sharply until I stop struggling. When the caresses start on my sides to my breasts, I manage to hold still and be quiet, but when the fingers trace down my belly to my vagina, I lose it. I scream and try desperately to get away, but the hands are fast, covering my eyes and mouth, restraining and pressing my arms and legs and body back where they started, slapping and pinching and poking my sensitive places harder and harder as I continue to fight. The only sounds are my muffled cries and the slap of skin against skin. Finally, I give up. I have to. I'm exhausted, and they won't stop. I force myself to quit fighting - to stop moving at all. The pinching and swatting cease, and the hands let go one by one - all except the one between my legs, which segues from slapping to stroking to exploring. I breathe in short, quiet gasps. Fingers slip into me, probing my folds, sliding over my hood and down to the bottom of my slit - I don't move or make a sound. Minutes are passing. My self-imposed inaction slows my racing heart and breathing despite the unwelcome touches. The fingers go. All is quiet and still, as if I chose to lie naked and exposed in the center of a crowd of strangers. Something touches between my legs. The head of a penis against my parted lower lips. Adrenaline screams through me. I shudder, trying to stay still. I can't! I surge up to leap away and scream hysterically. The hands return, clamping, restraining, punishing, more forcefully as I strain with all I have. My body - especially my breasts, and between my legs, must be red from the smacks and tweaks, and I am no more free than I started. I can bear it no more, and collapse on myself, inert. Again the torment stops, and one by one the hands let go. I sob silently two, three times, untouched, lying as I started, before the cockhead returns. It presses forward, entering me. Adrenaline screams through me. I shudder, trying to stay still. I... succeed. The penis fills me slowly, steadily, letting me feel the entirety of its invasion, until its owner's pubic bone presses against me. I inhale raggedly, arms and legs free, eyes and mouth shut. I don't move. The penis withdraws most of the way and returns, once, and again, repeating, fucking. I don't move. Gentle hands caress my raw nipples and breasts, stroke my red belly, wipe away the tears leaking from my closed eyes. I don't move. ------------ 78. While we were waiting around before going into the show, one of the gang produced a joint. We all passed it around. I'd never smoked one before, but I certainly wasn't going to tell them that. I wasn't going to ruin my first invitation to join the inner clique by acting like a kid. I hardly coughed at all, and even held it in the longest, which seemed to impress them. The planetarium looked so strange when we went in - like a futuristic movie set, and when the lights went out it was the darkest dark I'd ever seen. Then the laser show started with a blast of Led Zeppelin, and I was _in_ the lights and music. It was my parent's my _grandparents'_ music, wild and free and beautiful. Sight and sound merged with me, and one psychedelic age song blended and morphed to the next. The Grateful Dead bathed the world cobalt as something - fingers? light? music? curled and stroked around breasts, rubbing them through my blouse. I turned, but could see only blue-black shapes flash-illuminated by strobe and laser burn. It felt OK. It felt good. It felt like the lights and music coming to touch me. Even so, my arms reached to brush it away, but they never made it, deflected by hands or some other obstacle. ** It's the music - it's the show - let yourself go into it. ** I told myself. Or did someone speak the words to me under the chords? The song and patterns changed - Pink Floyd - touching my knees, sliding under my skirt, upward over my thighs. The sound and music lifting me, parting my legs. It felt wonderful, which was a good thing, since I couldn't seem to make it stop, nor want it to. ** You like it. Let go. *** Yes, and ruby red streaks kissed my lips, a dark shape under the explosions of color, a wet tongue exploring my opening mouth. Jefferson Airplane brushed my midriff under my blouse with emerald laced geometry, insinuating under my bra. Jimi Hendrix in saffron explosions slipped under the waistband of my skirt and panties. ** Let go. ** The music the sound the lights Touching me.... ------------ 79. His hand lightly pulls the rope connecting the loops around my wrists to those around my neck, guiding me to raise my head, and lower my rear. His waiting cock is directly under my pussy, and its thickness stretches me as I sink onto it, groaning. I hear a clicking sound and freeze. "What was that?" I ask quietly. "My camera," he says. "You look so hot fucking yourself on me, I have to have a picture. Come on. All the way down." The gentle but firm pull on the rope gives me little choice, and soon he is all the way in me. And then another click. I shudder, and feel my skin color and prickle with goosebumps of embarassment. "You like the idea, don't you. Having pictures. I was thinking of sharing them with some of my buds, showing them what a slut you are for me." "Oh, no! Please!" He guides me up, then slowly down onto him again, taking four or five pictures as I sink. Every click of the shutter sends shivers through me. "Oh, yes. I feel you. You're getting off on the idea of my drooling pals seeing you like this. Wanting you, whacking off to you being fucked. To you fucking yourself on my cock. Go on, fuck me." He lets go of the rope, and after the tiniest of hesitations, I start raising and lowering myself on him. God, it feels so good, so dirty. Every now and then, there's another click - It's like the button on the camera also triggers a something inside me, and I squeeze him inside each time it happens. I know he feels it. Little gasps and grunts excape me with each new picture, each record of my obeisance. I can feel my cheeks burn as I turn carefully to look back at him. "Oh, yeah. This turns you on. They all want to fuck you, you know. Every one of them. They'll want to even more when I show them these pictures." He takes a picture of my flushed, wide-eyed face, and I moan. I don't want them to see me like this. But... "They'll just go insane when they see the pictures of you cumming." I haven't stopped fucking him. I can't. The camera keeps clicking, pictures of my sopping and impaled pussy; pictures of my staring, lost face. Every shot is a shock that brings me closer to the edge... ------------ 80. My wrists were bound to each other above my head, and I was held fast to the padded table with belts around my forehead, neck, upper arms, and just under my breasts. My upper thighs, knees, and ankles were strapped to strudy, widely spread, stirrup-like rods - rendering me obscenely open in the empty white room. A rubber plug filled my mouth, connected to and covered by a leather gag, preventing all but the smallest souds from escaping me, no matter how I tried to scream. My exposed pussy faced a featureless door in the opposite wall, and it was the first thing the man and woman who entered saw and focused on. She was older, conservatively dressed, and strangely familiar, though I did't know from where. He was a stranger, tall, young, muscular - and completely naked. He was definitely an adult - his erect cock was bigger than any I'd seen before outside of snuck pornography. His face, however, had the blank expression of a simpleton. He listened to the woman's words while his eyes roved over my displayed body, and followed her instructions of where to go. She was telling him how the pretty girl (her hand stroked my side) wanted to play with him, and that the table and room were part of the game. She described, as if to a child, what he was supposed to do, and how much fun it would be for both of us. I tried to struggle - to scream - to shake my head to show her words were lies, but my motions were too restricted and my sounds too muffled. The woman translated them to him as my eagerness to play. He was definitely interested in both my body and what was happening to his as she gently grasped his shaft, pulling him between my legs as she smoothed lubricant on it. She guided him right to my pussy, stroking him as she positioned him at my entrance. Then she took his hands in hers and placed them on my belly, telling him to feel how soft and warm I was. How I was trembling because I liked his touch so much. He didn't even notice his cock slowly starting to press against my slit, but I certainly did. She told him my muffled protests were sounds of happiness. That he was playing the game just right and he should feel all the soft, warm parts of me. He smiled timidly, hands moving up to touch, then squeeze and play with my breasts, as his penis pushed harder. The cockhead popped into me, startling us both - almost scaring him. She soothed him and said it was alright - that it was part of the game. I panted through my nose. He was too big! Already I felt as if I were stretched too much. But she was asking if it felt nice, and he nodded shyly. She gently cupped his balls and urged him to continue to touch and play. He obeyed, pushing further into me as his hands ranged over my helpless body. Instinctively, he began rocking back and forth, forcing himself ever deeper into my protesting pussy. She encouraged him, telling him I liked it too, and wanted him to play more as I cried behind the gag. Just over half of his length was inside me when he froze. I felt him swell inside me and spastically jab forward another inch. A mix of confusion, pleasure and fear showed in his eyes as he throbbed and came inside me. He jerked and trembled, making tiny noises as the jets of semen sprayed into me, hands squeezing my breasts too hard. I howled in desperate but silenced protest. She had a hand on his back, as if to keep him from pulling out, cooing soothing words into his ear. She was flushed as well, clearly turned on by what she was orchestrating. The tableau held for ten, twenty ragged breaths as he emptied into me, then slowly began to go soft. She patted his chest, telling him how well he played and how proud she was of him. He was still confused, but obviously happy. She guided him to step back, and he finally slipped out, the hot flow pouring from me after his departure. She was talking to him now, but looking at me. She complimented him once more, and told him how much I wanted to play with him again. Whenever he wanted. Then she took his hand and led him out. My tears had not yet dried when they returned. ----- Nightmares and Visions (76-80) by Monocle Feedback to: monocle_o@NOTTHIS.hotmail.com Other stories from Monocle can be found at: Web: https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/www/ ftp: www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/Mares_76-80