Writer's note:
My stories seem to follow a similar plot, don't they?
~ ~ ~
What...
Tug. TUG.
I can't move...fuck, something's in my mouth...I can't see.
Panic. TUG. Muffled grunts-
"Hey love," Halt.
~ ~ ~
"Hey love."
He stops all his commotion, alarmed. I'm so glad this worked...am I in full control now?
I'm...about invincible. I mean, I can drag the "soul" of whoever I want into this realm of mine, them waking up with seemly clear memories, as if they dreamt it...lived it. I could really mess with people, if not already.
As I like, he's in that red wooly longsleeve, down to his boxer, dark blue. I don't need restraints to keep him still and quiet, but I like the look of them on him. Square, unresponsive creature.
I casually move to his side, then right in front of him on the chocolate colored couch, where his taped wrists and elbows areβby my willβglued to. He tugs at them and his spread knees, desperate, his hair a jerk away from coming into contact, messy. Yea...I want him bad.
"You can calm the struggles, Square," he doesn't, "This is a dream, and I'm in control."
Something seems to hit him. He leans back suddenly, finally still, trying to see through his blindfold. It's not seethroughable.
"Recognize my voice?"
No response, but tense.
I reach for his blindfold. He winces as I pull it down to his neck. Dull blue eyes, hazy...then wide.
"Hey," I'm in my sleep wear, loose white t-shirt, leggings, and socks. No bra, fuck that.
His expression is amusing...not exactly scared. Confused, certainly. Well, I can't really explain this can I?
"It's a dream, love. And you're mine."
He just stares on.
Without warning, I pull his head back by his hair...which is about identical to mine in style. His eyes squeeze shut a moment from the rough act.
"Did you hear me? Nod if you understand this is a dream," I loosen my grip, "I'd like to see expressions other than confusion."