1 First dream
The darkness was so complete she couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or not. She couldn’t move. Not because of any physical restraint or restriction but her mind simply couldn’t coerce a muscle into activity, not even to turn her eyes from side to side. The silence was all encompassing too, nothing at all, not even the sound of her breath to break the peace. The silence was pitch black. There were no scent by which to determine her surroundings, or could she even be sure she was breathing in the atmosphere. Was she breathing?
Was this a dream? Does one recognise sensory input within a dream or does your brain simply know what the body’s senses would be telling it in the physical world? Surely it was a dream. There could be no other explanation. She couldn’t remember how she got here but wasn’t that how all dreams started, in the middle? But she could feel, and she could feel so intensely, without touching. It was as if her mind could feel, could sense her surroundings with an exquisite intensity that physical touch could never provide. The depravation of her other senses seemed to have heightened her feelings, over sensitised her skin to her surroundings. There was comfort beneath her back. She could feel the luxuriant but firm support under her head, then down her spine, beneath her slim behind and down both legs to her heels but it wasn’t her own bed she felt.
There was no fear in her. She felt completely relaxed, without tension or apprehension. Wherever she was, whether dream or reality, or whatever might happen, she was completely at ease with the situation.
Then the first touch came, so wonderfully gentle like faint electricity tingling her nerve endings. She could feel what she imagined were fingertips moving ever so tenderly over her face, lightly exploring over her forehead, tracing the bridge of her nose, gently brushing her cheeks, and then a slightly moistened finger traced erotically around her slightly parted lips. Then a hand was around her neck but there was no menace in the touch, the fingers gently massaged and stroked her smooth, freckled skin. The fingertips slipped down her neck and traced lines around her small, firm breasts. She could feel her nipples harden, standing so proudly with the expectation of the electric touch, urging those tingling fingertips to continue their exploration of her obedient body.
Her body grew warm with the heightened pleasure and the warmth enveloped her naked form with a colour, a deep violet hue that radiated around her, intensifying under the sensual touch of the almost unnaturally long fingers. With the violet warmth came peace and contentment, a sense of meditative well-being that was contrasted by the erotic joy imparted by the merest touch. The violet light pulsated through the end of the fingers, throbbing with a subtle vibrational energy, knowing the exact spot between her legs. The warmth rose within her, rushing to the same spot, the intensifying light echoed her quickening, throbbing pulse.
Her breath quickened. She still could not move, not resist, nor why should she, the pleasure was beyond her experience. Then at the point of such incredible fulfilment her body was held, suspended for a moment in time on the precipice of ecstasy while a voice whispered imperceptibly in her mind, “I am coming through, through you, Faelinn” and then she was released. Her body arched with such an exquisite orgasm as she panted gasping for air, her body demanding oxygen as if it had been deprived for some minutes. She screamed and was suddenly awake, her eyes wide as she recognised the familiarity of her room.
