...Dream...
What awaits you in your dreams may be more than you think.
Dream
-1-
Omo woke late that morning, it was well past dawn and nearly to high noon when she crawled from her hole. There was a strange sense of urgency at the back of her mind, like memory of something important that was just out of reach. Yet as her mind cleared and the brilliance of daylight bathed her shimmering scaled form, she could remember only one thing of her dreams. It was a thought, not quite word, not even a picture, not even a full emotion though it made her stomach clench with tension. She shook her head and stretched, attempting to work the kinks from her muscles; she really did have to dig the hole a little nicer or she might wake up one morning tied in a knot.
She was a natural runner, fleet of foot, light as a feather, sleek as an arrow; she chased her prey down and landed upon it before the beast even knew she was there. It was a young buck, not more than one season old and the flesh was sweet between her teeth. For as long as she could remember she had been alone, never meeting another of her kind nor any other sentient upon the plains. She followed the herds, feasting and foraging with little more to life than that. She was young, healthy, and strong; a perfect specimen of her species... whatever that was.
Once full with her belly bulging in ways that would have made a lesser sick, she abandoned the carcass to the scavengers. Under the hot sun she made her way to the river; to drink and cool off. Hunting was exhausting work, it burned calories and left her hotter than basalt in summer. She knew how to make no tools, she needed no skins or bones and she had never learned to cure meat for storage. Omo was what you might consider a primeval, she didn't even speak a single language having never met another of her kind.
As afternoon waned, she lay, basking upon a rock with her body splayed out in what one might have considered an inviting and lewd manner. After the cold water, the heat of the sun on her silver scales was a welcome treat. For a while she just laid there, content and full, but eventually she drifted in to a state of semi-consciousness. Within that state something came to her, that same gut deep tension, like there was something right behind her, something reaching for her. When she felt it, she had no words, no language to describe it; it was familiar.
The touch was gentle, like water on a smooth river stone. But as water it carved and penetrated, slow and patient. Her mind yielded to it, helpless and trapped. She tried to wake, tried to flee from it, but in this state, in this place that _other_was the hunter and she the prey. Within her belly the tension grew, a hungering need awoke like a raging inferno with no water to quench. Involuntarily she leaned back in to that _other's_touch and her mind opened like the petals of a flower to the morning dew.
She saw him then, green eyes staring at her, intent and probing. All around them darkness, swirling inky black, but those eyes shimmered like emeralds in the sun. A hand lifted to her cheek and brushed a furred thumb along her eye ridge as if counting each horn that dotted her brow. As she stared up in to those eyes, they seemed to grow larger, filling all of her vision until green was all she could see. The green reflected fire, her own fire, the blazing inferno in her gut. She wanted to scream but her lips wouldn't move, she wanted to thrash but her arms wouldn't lift, she wanted to wake but her eyes wouldn't open. The inferno burned hotter and hotter, a mixture of lust love and something else she had never known before. More than one occasion Omo had gone in to heat and laid there, panting in the dark with her insides churning for satisfaction; this was different.
Her eyes awoke and stared upward, toward two bright spots in the night sky. At first she thought it was still those eyes, never letting her go; but then as the dream faded she realized it was the moons whirling through the heavens. Disoriented and troubled Omo rose from her now cold stone and slid in to the long grass of the plains. She couldn't remember why she was troubled, only that something was after her, something inescapable; something she craved.
-2-
Night after night she woke up unrested and troubled. Not once could she remember the details of her dream, but every time it seemed worse. Omo was losing her mind. Still she hunted, still she ate, still she bathed ran and played. Then she would fall, exhausted in to her hole and rest, there the disquiet would come again to stalk her every sleeping moment.
This night was different, this night she sat in her hole, curled up in a pile of grasses with her knees hugged to her chest. This night she refused to sleep, refused to dream. Through the tiny entrance she watched a moon crawl across the sky, she watched the stars fade in to view and sparkle. But then, some time in the wee hours she felt something, a presence at the back of her spine. A moment later her stomach clenched emotions began to well in her heart. Love, fear, need, loneliness. Each took its turn ravaging her heart; each brought with it an echo from the other.
No matter where she looked, no matter how she concentrated, she couldn't see the presence. But behind her, from somewhere within where she had no defenses, emerald eyes gazed at her, demanding, expectant, patient. She tried to look away, but they were within her and there was no where to run. Soon the tension became a fire and she felt her cloaca clench and swell with need. She reached down to touch herself and her fingers came away sticky. She touched again and a shuddering moan echoed through her hole.
As Omo's fingers danced and played, bringing her to sweet orgasm after sweet orgasm; the eyes watched. They saw not just her actions, but her emotions, her fears, her thoughts. She had no secret before those eyes, no privacy, and no defense. Yet still she played, displaying herself lewdly before her nightmare, and surrendered herself up to him as if an offering. She was violated from her core outward, she felt raped and humiliated even as she brought herself to another exquisite peak. Try as she might she could never turn away from his possessive, demanding gaze.
When again Omo woke, it was late, well past noon even. However for the first time in months she woke feeling refreshed and healthy. First thing she attended was a bath, to wash the sticky mess from her stomach and fingers. Then her breakfast, which tasted all the sweeter as a fluttering joy echoed through her heart. She had pleased him, her unknown stalker and was rewarded for it.
When night came again and she felt the clawing of sleep, she tried to resist, tried to fight; it did no good. Down she fell in to the abyss of dream where he waited, his arms open to catch her and hold her prisoner to his little game. Those eyes still watched, but they demanded more, demanded so much more than she dared surrender. Her dream self lay there, immobile, trapped, spread open as if sunning herself but the sun was he, that other, bathing her in his twisted affection. More of him was visible now, an outline, a texture, the softness of his fur, the sharpness of his claws. Even a sweet musk permeated her dream and teased her senses; it was this that drove her heat, it was this that set her womb on fire.
When he was done with her, she woke and remembered almost nothing. What was left was only that she had pleased him and a deep horrific sense of violation. Again she bathed, this time trying to wash away the shame, the humiliation, and the fear. Water could only touch skin deep though and her filthy taint was of the soul. That day she forgot to eat and simply sat, sobbing in to her hands at the bank of the river.
-3-
Her mind was not her own, it did things she did not wish, it thought things she did not think, it felt things that were not her. When her eyes closed whether day or night; there he was, a presence, a corruption in her heart, a thorn in her paw. He could touch her and she would feel it, he could hold her, and she couldn't get away. At this moment she had fallen to her knees and with closed eyes looked up at him, helpless and terrified. He reached for her with that furred paw and cupped under her chin. There she felt it as if his fingers were truly playing at her scales. She turned her head away and he struck her across the mouth. She felt that too and though she swore her lip bled, in truth as her eyes opened no blood came away on her fingers.
She was afraid to shut her eyes, afraid to sleep, afraid of the night. At night was the worst, during the day she could open her eyes and he would vanish, but at night even with her eyes open she could see him, a ghostly silhouette. He wasn't just there to torment her though, he had moods, desires, and needs. She could feel his needs as keenly as her own, his lust, his hunger--his displeasure.
Tonight was no different as she lay there in dread, she felt him pull her down in to his dream. When she was tired he could do that, just rip her from the world and trap her in the void. On this night he stood there, gazing at her with those emerald eyes and his lips parted, "...Dream... Of me." He said and in the void she understood him.
His crotch bulged, his sheath swelled, and a glistening translucent phallus emerged; as emerald as his eyes. She knew what it was though she had never before seen one. She knew what he intended, though she had never before done it. Against her will her lips parted, against his length she pressed her tongue. She could taste him, salty and covered in that strong musk that set her nerves on fire. The hunger grew and her mouth engulfed him. Here in the place of dreams she was his servant, she was his plaything, she was what ever he wanted of her and she had no say in it. For an eternity she bathed him in her mouth; forever she tasted him, felt him, and worshiped him upon her tongue. With eyes open or eyes closed she saw him watching her, expectant and demanding as ever.
As night faded to day he pulled free of her lips, then placed a finger under her chin and lifted. Her head rose, no will left to resist, and she gazed up in to her Keeper's eyes. He traced that same finger about her throat and there she felt a weight, as heavy as lead. Even as her eyes opened and the dream faded, she still felt it there, weighing her down. As she crawled in to the sun, it seemed faded, less glorious than the day before. Every step she took she felt his collar and leash upon her neck but try as she might she could not find it with her hands to rip it free.
She ran slower, weighed down, yet still she caught her prey. She swam in the river, yet felt less joy for it. She laid upon the stone and sunned herself, but it paled in comparison to the radiance of her Keeper. When she closed her eyes she saw a chain, glistening in his radiance as it ran from her throat to his hand. He pulled and she lurched forward, obedient before him. She belonged to him, her waking dream and no where she went could she ever escape from his gaze.