Midnight Dreams: Season of the Witch
Starring Elizabeth Olsen
(MF, Oral, Anal, Creampie)
By MrMaxLord
You know, a lot of these dreams I've shown you tend to have strong connections with what people were doing just before they nod off, huh? I mean I'm not trying to have that be the case but it's just a fact that when it comes to your kind your mind holds on to what's the most fresh to construct this dreams. For the most part. Tonight however, you're going to get something different. The two parties in this dream aren't passing out on the couch or the floor or at a desk. Nope, they've managed to make it to bed perfectly safe and sound to end their day and join me for a little dream dalliance.
However just because they made it to bed peacefully doesn't mean their desires aren't just a little bit chaotic.
Alex Lipton lives a fairly normal life as a motel manager. It's not half bad. It pays well and he saves on rent as the owner lets him live on grounds in a nice little one bed, one bath built back when the owner was just starting the business and wanted a place to live and save money. Now it was a perk for anyone who wanted to be the manager at his motel that was well on the road to the middle of nowhere. It wasn't quite located on a lonely road. There was a Wendy's, a Taco Bell and a 7/11 all around him in case he decided to kill sometime be feloniously assaulting his own stomach. The lax dress code was nice to. The Errol Flynn facial hair he sported got no complaints from the motel owner nor did his attire of T-shirts and jeans. He even pushed the line a little bit further when he'd play his favorite films on the TV at the front desk. They were always fantasy films or shows of some sort. The Lord of the Rings, Willow, Game of Thrones, anything with swords and sorcery he was ready to ingest. Well, most nights. On this particular night it'd been reruns of Impractical Jokers on in the background while he made some late night supply orders. It'd been a few months since anything with swords or sorcery, let alone both. It was however, getting close to switch things over to the assistant manager when she came in at two in the morning.
Elizabeth Olsen too had not been watching anything that would wind up influencing her dreams, at least not directly. She'd been reading a book about as far away from adventurous as a person could get before she felt the droop of her eyelids. They almost felt like theater curtains before she finally decided to give in and take a bow. The leggy blonde put the book down on the night stand, laid down, turned off the the lights and the curtain dropped.
Now, what makes people dream of the things they dream about? Is it really just as simple as what you were doing before bed or even for most of the day? Or do those desires wait, ready to spring like a tiger when their moment is at hand? Let's take a look and see what desires both these two had that drew them together in dreams...and just what their heads created.
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Alex had lost track of how long he'd been in the dungeon. He was the last one standing and at this point he feared his wrists would feel odd with out the clasp of the cold metal chains that kept him. The days, or was it weeks and perhaps months, he'd spent here had all melded together from the sameness. The same dripping moisture, the same sounds of various nightbeasts that prowled outside his barred window and the ever present red light that shined through the same window. A scarlet tinge covered everything in the witch's tower, whether they wanted it or not. it was the color of her chaos and none could breach it unless she chose is. Elizabeth Olsen's sorcerous powers were legendary and none in the world dared challenge her. Which is what made Alex's imprisonment all the more mystifying, he hadn't been challenging her.
Alex was a ranger, wandering the free lands and doing what he could to keep them that way. The Scarlet Blonde Witch known as Elizabeth Olsen was never an issue for him. She kept to herself as long as others did as well. Or that was the official line. Still, he'd never encountered her before and never had reason to. Which made it all the more surprising when he came across her at the River of Night's Dreaming. It was almost as if she'd been waiting for him. She'd sat among the rocks and she either formed them into a makeshift throne with her powers or the Earth willingly formed it for her. Given how much power Elizabeth wielded, both were viable possibilities.
Her beauty was legendary even in a world of legends. The kind, enchanting face of an angel yet she dealt primarily in sin. Her long legs were crossed and she was dressed in her familiar black and red garb or leathers and linen.
Alex froze in place, both terrified and lustfully entranced by the bewitching beauty. And it wasn't just mortal beauty, it was extra mortal. Faint bolts of pinkish-red electricity would randomly roam over her body along with a faint red glow she seemed to give off. The supernatural sights didn't end there, as her hair seemed to shift colors from dark brown, to red to blonde depending on how the light hit it...or maybe it was her mood.
Being frozen in place by the site of such legendary and sinister beauty didn't just leave Alex motionless, but also speechless. There was no magic at play for this enchantment, it was all Elizabeth, which made her smile wider than she already had been. With Alex silent, she took the initiative to speak.
"Perfect," she said. "In every way." She snapped her fingers and a black smoke exploded from the sound, filled with glowing red embers and sparks. That was the last pairing of sight and sound Alex would experience for a bit, as he was soon out like a light. When he awoke, he was in the dungeon. And aside from the chains and the dripping and the lighting situation, he'd experienced worse. Frankly having an actual bed instead of a cot or nothing at all made this the Ritz of dungeons. Yeah, sleeping with one's arms chained up was a challenge but far from the hardest Alex had ever faced. Especially considering he didn't remember sleeping once since awoke. Or did he remember eating or drinking or even feeling the pangs of hunger or the thirst of a dying man. How long had he been here?
Before he could fully commit to answering that self-asked question, he heard the heavy wooden door open. First came the clinkety-clack of the lock unlocking, followed closely by the creek of imprisoned age. Behind the door was a spectral assistant; a vaguely humanoid, somewhat transparent being made of formless magic given the form of a mind. A simple one, designed mainly to follow the directions of their creator, in this case Elizabeth Olsen.
The spectral assistant waved it's left hand at his. While he was watching the smokey form he almost didn't notice his chains hadn't just fallen away, they'd faded away. That when the sound of gibberish echoes filled the room before focusing in and then out of the spectral assistant.
"You are to to meet our Mistress of Magic, now," spoke the spectre before condensing it's form to that of a floating green flame. Alex got to his feet and followed the flame out the door and up a flight of enchanted stairs. If Madame Olsen didn't want to see you, you'd never get to the top or bottom once started. If she truly wanted your presence you could go from the third step to the very top where her boudoir was located. If Alex were aware of that he'd be very flattered that for him it was halfway through step two. Step three led him right her door.
Alex's flaming guide exploded in silence, the green flame coating the oak door in front of him before turning it transparent.
"Come," Elizabeth's voice echoed from within. Alex stepped through the door, hearing a hiss of air when he was completely in the witch's lair.
Alex looked around the impossibly large room. There was even a spiral staircase within it leading to other floors. He didn't quite understand how it was possible but shook it off as his surroundings settling in. It certainly wasn't what he expected from a witch's lair. No live reptiles or familiars of any kind, no assorted slimes and rotting furniture. Instead it was all tidy book cases and shelves. Chairs and couches and all furniture were works of art in their form and were most certainly just as dreamily comfortable. All of it lit by floating, color-changing flames.
