Unfinished, white-washed walls, run along row, after row of mismatching tables. Worn and bulky, old things made of coarse wood. The air in here smells of smoke, with hunts of cider. There are no windows in sight, but the room is made visible by weak lighting; probably from a fireplace, somewhere out of view. Loose hay, from the bales used as benches, cover the hardwood floors and fifteen or so rugged looking men, crowd the hall.
Sitting down, curiously unaware of anyone; apparently focused on their dinners.
Except the hulking one who's intently coming towards You, that is.
-
He is a big, burly man; dressed in furs for winter, which, paired with, his thick beard and mot of messy black hair, make it hard to see his face. He might be kin to Giants, for all I know, but he looks a lot meaner, even, from across the room.
"Where the fuck am I," I mumble almost inaudibly, eyes wide with worry.
"I do NOT recognize this man," and my heart starts to pound against my chest.
"Who is this?... and why..?"
"The fuck Is he coming...this way..."
I glance around me, looking for answers that aren't there. All the while keeping the man in my peripheral, unwilling to give him the jump on me.
Everyone else is clustered on the other side of the aisle, making it abundantly clear that the large shape moving this way is, indeed, heading for...
"ME?!" I nearly shout. My fear now evident.
"You are not my Dom," I spit in his general direction, leaning away.
"This isn't right," that I'm certain of, the affirmation, makes my stomach sink as my heart rate steadily trends upward.
"What to do... what to do.," muttering, I hope to grab hold of something to defend myself with. I pat my sides and take a quick look, on either side of the row of tables, for anything useful.
Regrettably the windowless place has nothing to offer me but furniture and straws.
Asking for help seems like the only course of action left to me. So, I peel my eyes off of the giant fully for the first time, unable to ignore the rush of blood in my ears.
Facing the hall, I take a few steps back, to distances myself from my foe, and abruptly bump into a table while trying to scan the scene. I grab onto the table's side, needing the support to stay up right. Feeling increasingly light headed from the panic.
-
"Wait, what? Is..is everyone...?" Jessika stares, wide eyed and gaping. That initial assumption she had, that all the large men were sitting down to their meals, was wrong. But the room is dim and it's only, now, upon closer inspection that she focuses on what they are actually sitting down to:
"Bodies." Jessika gasps.
They are all women, lying toe to toe on tables, pinned up against walls, and sitting on hay bales with heads between their legs.
Some of them are older but most are young women of varying size, and shade, either naked, or half dressed in velvet corset-gowns. Splayed out or bent over they are clearly enjoying the attention and affection received.
To your far left, one man gingerly sucks the chestnut nipples of a blond chick, sitting naked on his lap. The young lady seemingly more preoccupied with the man next to her. Who's giving her friend a good lick off the lips. Below the waist.
Across the room from them, a brunet on his knees smiles, between each kiss he plants, on the bare thighs of a brown woman with large jugs. Another man strokes the same woman's hair. Trying to jerk off near her face. The woman herself, beautiful locks and all, was giggling after a failed attempt to lean back. She needs to lower herself to take the one man's load but doesn't want to let go of the dress she's been holding up for the other. A delightful predicament.
In the corner to your right, a bearded man is mercilessly slamming into a young girl, bent over his table. He has her hands gripped tight on her back and her body held down by the neck. She is red-faced, half-dressed and drooling, unable to do anything but take it; you can hear her crying out from here.
-
"I want what she's having," is the first thing I blurt out, as I realize, that this must be a dream.
"Wait...what about the big guy," I turn my head back to find the wild man, now halfway across the room from me, eyes still locked on.
So I look down and sure enough, my breasts are pushed up to my chin, on the verge of spilling over, in a blood-red corset. The seams run tense along the sides, tightly hugging the curvature of my hips to accentuating the waist, until it turns into a loose flowing, see through, lace gown. Long legs and clean shaven, pink, pussy lips, clearly visible underneath the thin material.
"I must look the ideal hourglass hooker, long chestnut hair draped over supple tits, thick legs shaven as smooth as silk in this skimpy red riding hood outfit." I scoff, rolling my eyes.
"At least I understand why he is staring," I concede, before returning my gaze to the room.
It takes me a second to focus, but when I do, there is a wall of fabric towering over me. The Black bearded man is 3 inches from my face and I have to crane my head back, to see his. I'm caught off guard by the hunger in his eyes and in that moment muscular arms, hardly straining, hoist me up on to the table behind me. Holding me securely in place by the waist.
"If this is a dream there is no harm in enjoying it. In fact, why should I NOT?" I smirk, feeling slutty with another man's hands on me.
In one swift motion he has hiked up my dress and I can feel strong hands start to slide around my hips, to my lower back, just grazing my ass and down. To settle under your thighs, firmly grabbing hold of my flesh. I forget myself and nearly hoot:
"Yes!" Already feeling the moisture spread between my legs. All the tension I felt from panic had turned to liquid and was now seeping from my cunt.
"Oh fuck," I breath as he yanks my thighs apart and toward him, with more strength than I could resist. A quick glance around the room and it's clear that these men are savages. This is gonna be straight to the point and rough.
"Just how I like it," I sigh. My cheeks warm with embarrassment.
Leaning back, in search of something to steady myself with, I say:
"This table will have to do."
"All of this is hot and all, but I can't be intimate with anyone but Master. Even in my dreams ."
So I devise a list of do's and don'ts, of the top of my head, that would make Master proud:
"No touching, holding, eye contact or kissing. Sex," I assure myself, " it's just sex." A shy smile spreading on my face.
"Yes, Master would approve of a dirty little whore, like me, having such provocative dreams."
"Although," I wonder,
"Maybe not as thrilled knowing it's not him, I'm dreaming of."
A second later, the so far mute giant, rams into me so hard it hurts. He shoves in with such force that the base of his cock hits my pelvis causing me to yelp:
"aAah!!"
And my vision shifts...
-
Looking down you see yourself, almost in slow motion, leaning back as the BFG begins his greedy assault on you.
The pain has subsided and now all you feel is stretched and full. You close your eyes, letting them roll back, a cord in your lower abdomen beginning to tighten, and your breath grows shallow.
The man's hands are clasped around the depth of your torso, at the ribs. Easily pinning your whole upper body between his large forearms, his elbows just brushing your hips, as he leans into you.
He is strong and you feel the pressure of his size in your lower gut as he bottoms you out.
Putting his whole weight and force behind him with every push into your slit. Pushing up your cervix and pressing you down onto him as he goes. Going deep, pulling back and then deeper still. You reflexively drop your head back.
If this wasn't a dream, you'd for sure be left with bruises. Down your lower back, from the force he is pinning you against the table with.
Over your ribs, right under your boobs and to the sides, from his steel grip. Not to mention how sore your vag would be from the impact of his incessant strokes.
-
Regardless of better judgment, my legs are now wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him in into me with every thrust. My pussy throbs as he leans forward to bury his face into my chest; nibbling as he goes.
There is a growing cool patch along my thighs, around the center of all the hot friction. As if someone had spilled half a glass of water on my lap, but I know it's my pussy juice.
Wave after wave of sensation hit me, the muscles in my lower belly getting tighter, and my legs stiffen.
"fuck. fuck. fuck!" I moan thoughtlessly. My face feels flushed and the tingling in my toes persuade me to curl them. I see myself bounce back and forth...with every. Hard. Thrust...He. Delivers!
Pushing my legs further back. Parting my lips and stretching my hole.
-
Your tits are bobbing along in tune. Mouth wide open, mid moan. Your vision grows blurry at the edges and it's all turning in to sensation.
Cunt pulsing around his shaft, it's lips thick from the flow of blood and pounding. Mindlessly you shove your hand in his hair. The scene fades to nothing as you still feel his warm cock nudging at your insides. Nothing but a wet sloppy mess pressed between you two.
Suddenly he latches onto your shoulder, biting down, hard, right above your clavicle and you climb that peak.
Then,
you are gone.
**********************
All you know is that it's cold, cold enough to be aware off but not enough to move.
"Why is it freezing?" you wonder, swaying in and out of consciousness.
**********************
A shift that must have been something heavy settling on the mattress drags you back to the edge waking. Sure enough you feel a large arm, pulling you towards, what you now realize must be Jon, your Husband. He angles your head between his bicep and his chest and you feel his breath making ripples in the hair above your ear,
"He must be leaning his face into mine," the thought makes you smile. You feel warm again and reflexively snuggle into him, which he responds to by gently shushing you back to sleep. Planting kisses in your hair.
***********************
The sun shining through the curtains wake me and I could swear, I'm sore.
Turning, I find Jon sitting up next to me, watching a muted TV-show.
He looks over with a sly grin and asks:
"How'd you sleep whore?" One eyebrow raised, making me blush scarlet. He must have heard me last night and I'm going to be punished for it.
I shift to get into a seated position, causing the collar I have on to move, gently brushing against skin.
It hits me then:
"Shit, we are still in scene," I scramble, groggy from sleep, realizing the obvious:
"Well duh, Jon doesn't call me names in the morning...but Master..."
