She kept having the same recurrent dream. She found herself running through some great forest glade, a white wispy gown billowing in the breeze behind her. Footsteps, heavy ones, always chasing her, some dark creature, a beast in pursuit. He always caught her, dark and frightening, his eyes shockingly blue in the face of a handsome demon. He would always bind her, tie her spread eagle between 2 trees, His cock dripping with poison right before thrusting it into her mouth, powerful and veined, a poison serpent creeping in, she could barely get him in as he forced himself down her throat. He would always look down at her, some evil smile plastered on his face and would say, “you want one thing, to be defiled; to be debased into some submissive creature just for me.” She would wake up gagging, gagging not only at the poison being spewed down her throat, but at his words. Never! Not her. She was far too independent to be some object of lust for a man to find his pleasure in.
She would always find solace in her art after her unnerving dreams. Her advocation was pottery and sculpting, her vocation was a sales rep. She went into her studio and began carving into a block of clay. It always amazed her, empowered her that she could create beauty from some mundane lump, could transform it ugly and plain into something magnificent with her own hands. She worked almost mindlessly that day, not sure what she was even trying to form, and much to her horror, it began to look like a huge phallus. She slammed her fist on it in some finality and destroyed it.
She came home very tired from work, showered and went straight to bed. She was almost asleep as her head hit the pillow, the last fleeting thought she had, “no more dreams.” He is there again though, the demon, the beast, only this time the dream has changed. She is sprawled in his bed, limbs entangled, he has pulled her up against him like some wispy garment that molds to him. “I won’t let you go,” He growls to her, her mind is in some erotic trance. She is surprised at her bodies reaction to his words, her cunt grips and convulses, she has the feeling electric shocks are dancing through her veins. He is hovering at her entrance and suddenly plunges in. “I won’t let you go,” he says again more tenderly. She looks up into those startling blue eyes, pleading in her eyes, and what begins as something languid guickly turns brutal, her mind complete mush but her body completely alive. Then she wakes up as the thought, “poison,” flows through her mind, through her body.
She had decided long ago that she would never let a man possess her, own her, she would never marry. The whole thing made her think of being caged, locked away, contained. No, that simply would never do for her, she would live a care free life where she answered to noone. She would soar in her job and would make magnificent works of art. The thought of her phallus sculpture suddenly crossed her mind and she shuddered.
That night, the dream once again changed. Her demon is telling her what he will do to her since he is never letting her go. That he will use ropes, cuffs, knives, and toys. That he will bind her spread eagle on the bed, tie her to whatever pleases him, that her cunt will always remain open for him. No! It smacks of being contained, smacks of being caged. No not her, never! And as her mind is screaming never, he rides her on all fours like a bitch, his hand clamped across her mouth, she is sure she is suffocating, drowning from within in his seed, as though it has flowed up into her lungs and gagged her, his hand is fisting her hair, tugging butally on it, then she wakes up.
She goes through the motions of work, feeling as though she is falling headlong into some great chasm, unable to get her dreams out of her mind. That night the beast is there once again, only this time they are in a car. He is driving fast, frighteningly so, she begs him to slow down. He won’t. He drives faster, and says, “I won’t let you go.” His face looks cold, menacing, like some gentleman rapist perched on a kill. His eyes shockingly blue in a face so dark. She begs him, he keeps going faster. She wants to toss herself from the car, to get her sure death over with. He is going to kill her, she knows it. He is already sucking her very life from her. He is poison. He flows through her veins and he is killing her. He suddenly slows the car and pulls her head to his lap and whispers to her, ” I love you.” Her eyes snap open and she wakes up. Love? Love? Where did that come from? No, never, not her, that smacks of being contained.
This night the demon is devouring her, he is terrifyingly beautiful as he imaples her, she wants to feel his cock touch her heart, to rip it open, she wants to bleed for him. She is shocked by her own feelings. She wants to eat his cock, swallow it whole like some rotting thing that seeps into her and poisons her further. Her cunt is quivering, she craves him, she feels drunk on him, she thinks she loves him. “You do,” He says as though reading her thoughts, “you do,” he says as he sprays his poison inside of her. “No!” She screams as she wakes up.
She falls into a dream to find herself in a cage, a gun is lying beside her. A bullet beside the gun. He knows he is killing her by caging her, the demon is offering her this mercy. She places the bullet in the cartridge and snaps it shut, then places the gun to her head. Her finger quivering against the trigger. She drags the gun down and slides it along her lips then plunges it into her mouth, it is harder than him, more dangerous. She finds her tongue curling around the barrel. She pulls the gun from her mouth and glides it down her body, letting it slide between her breasts, then places it to her heart, a heart consumed by the poison of a demon. She tugs it further down and glides it along her tummy, down to her cunt, tracing her cunt lips with it. She plunges the barrel inside of her, moaning and writhing, she turns to see the demon staring at her through the bars of her cage. He is watching her intently. She pulls the gun from her sopping cunt and points it at him, her finger quivering on the trigger. She could kill him, kill the beast that is consuming her. He looks so beautiful, dark and angry, his eyes shockingly blue as she points the gun at him. He mouths, “I love you and I own you.” She lays the gun down and begins to sob. He opens the cage and pulls her to him. “you do own me,” she confesses, “and I do love you too.” She is sure it is the poison making her speak.
The next night, she has no dreams, she falls into a soundless, mindless dark sleep.
The next evening as she is leaving work, a handsome man, dark with shockingly blue eyes approaches her car as she gets in. He stands there looking at her through the window, she gets the impression he wants to smash it with his fist, to drag her out like a fire extinguisher from behind broken glass and use her to put out any fire in his body. She shudders and rolls the window slightly down, their eyes lock, like handcuffs snapping shut, his startling blue eyes holding hers captive.
“Can I help you?” she asks, her voice shaky as she stares into the depths of his eyes.
A look of amusement suddenly crosses his face. “I was just wondering, how much you like that dress you have on.”
She looks puzzled, his words not exactly registering. “What? This dress ? I love this dress, why?”
He looks amused once again, she can see a slight tremble in his lips, a slight dimple forming as he smiles, “I was just thinking how much I would love to cut it from you.”
She stares at him a moment, then bursts into laughter that seems to bubble up from her. “That was undoubtedly the worst pick-up line I have ever heard, and sorry, but I am not interested.”
He shrugs with the look of amusement never leaving his face as she scrawls her name and phone number on a piece of paper and thrusts it to him. “I know it was, but it worked.” He is still standing there with a look of amusement on his face, his hand clamped around the piece of paper as she drives away.
Her eyes stay locked to his shockingly blue ones, like handcuffs snapping shut as she backs away; she hears a cage slamming, it seems to be around her heart. “Poison,” she whispers to herself and smiles, praying he calls her.
