need. Her body thrilled in madly constrained helplessness; she flushed hot under the weight of gleaming, glinting eyes.
She struggled to breathe: each breath came with effort, stingy, hesitant. A thick winding coil, serpentine, wrapped around her throat, and more twisted around her wrists, pinning them behind her back. Priya wanted to scream, her higher brain waking into a red panic. Deeper inside, though, like a naughty child set loose to misbehave, the primal Priya, the visceral, hungry, and joyous Priya needed it, fighting to move if only so she could squirm happily against her restraints.
The fear and the pleasure were hard to separate. The world of the dream flooded her mind, her thoughts and will were tugged down and down, while her body cried out. The shadows of her bedroom swam above her.
A body lay on top of hers, felt more than seen. Those silvery eyes locked with hers, like a hypnotist entrancing her as prey, a python with a bird. That smell of wine and sulfur again. The rush of the oncoming train. Only, it wasn’t a train now, and it wasn’t so loud...it was the slow, quiet slither of serpents. The hiss of tongues flicking out to taste her scent; the tug and subtle passage of smooth scales sliding over satin sheets. They didn’t even have satin sheets. She couldn’t tear her thoughts away from her own nakedness, vulnerable and open to the thing pinning her down. As the strange presence caressed her, she remembered she'd wanted this. She'd asked Ron to blindfold and bind her, and now she was bound quite tightly, powerless under a demanding malevolence taking everything he hungered for.
Was it " he"? Oh, yes, definitely. She felt it, could smell it, could taste it on his mouth when he pressed it on hers. Salt and heat—the wild aromas of sweat and sex. The same wet, smooth, coiling appendage ran itself against the slick, ready folds of her pussy, and she could imagine what shape she’d feel at its end. This thing on top of her was very definitely male.
His broad, strong hands pressed cool on her skin, gripping her shoulders to hold her down. Heavy breathing warmed her ear and she panted. She might shatter to pieces. She had no power to form words, but her brain blazed with her desire, and it screamed out of her in the heavy darkness.
Take me.
More serpentine coils wound up and down her body, sliding around her waist to lift her up. They were cool and smooth—her flesh sang where they moved against it. The same pleasant but terrible sensation pressed against her back, and the head of one of the coils nudged between her thighs.
She wondered if Ron had returned. On any other night, even in sleep paralysis she could sense him in bed beside her. What if he woke up to see this? What would he do?
The coil prodded the generous wetness dripping from her. She grew tense—or at least she would have, if she could have broken out of her frozen state—but instead of slipping its sinuous length inside her ready sex, satisfying her curiosity and longing, it pressed against her other, tighter entrance.
"Oh... no... " she said, though the sound came out a weak, muffled groan.
I haven't ever...it can't...
Was it her own wetness the organ touched her with? Or did it have its own to share? It wound and nudged, she felt the cold kiss of slick anointment, preparing her for its next move.
Then the sinuous appendage thrust into her hard, heedless of the cry of pain she tried to shout against the coil around her throat. Thick, rigid, it throbbed within her and she felt every overwhelming swell. The hands on her shoulders tightened; her captor thrust down, deep against her body, vicious and lustful, sending pain and wickedly enticing pleasure through her all at once. Her brain was full of the riotous wrongness of it, but like a sweet drug it only made the whole experience more enticing, more violently satisfying.
She didn't come to climax, or even want to. This dream steeped her in fervent, lecherous pleasure, the wicked
She struggled to breathe: each breath came with effort, stingy, hesitant. A thick winding coil, serpentine, wrapped around her throat, and more twisted around her wrists, pinning them behind her back. Priya wanted to scream, her higher brain waking into a red panic. Deeper inside, though, like a naughty child set loose to misbehave, the primal Priya, the visceral, hungry, and joyous Priya needed it, fighting to move if only so she could squirm happily against her restraints.
The fear and the pleasure were hard to separate. The world of the dream flooded her mind, her thoughts and will were tugged down and down, while her body cried out. The shadows of her bedroom swam above her.
A body lay on top of hers, felt more than seen. Those silvery eyes locked with hers, like a hypnotist entrancing her as prey, a python with a bird. That smell of wine and sulfur again. The rush of the oncoming train. Only, it wasn’t a train now, and it wasn’t so loud...it was the slow, quiet slither of serpents. The hiss of tongues flicking out to taste her scent; the tug and subtle passage of smooth scales sliding over satin sheets. They didn’t even have satin sheets. She couldn’t tear her thoughts away from her own nakedness, vulnerable and open to the thing pinning her down. As the strange presence caressed her, she remembered she'd wanted this. She'd asked Ron to blindfold and bind her, and now she was bound quite tightly, powerless under a demanding malevolence taking everything he hungered for.
Was it " he"? Oh, yes, definitely. She felt it, could smell it, could taste it on his mouth when he pressed it on hers. Salt and heat—the wild aromas of sweat and sex. The same wet, smooth, coiling appendage ran itself against the slick, ready folds of her pussy, and she could imagine what shape she’d feel at its end. This thing on top of her was very definitely male.
His broad, strong hands pressed cool on her skin, gripping her shoulders to hold her down. Heavy breathing warmed her ear and she panted. She might shatter to pieces. She had no power to form words, but her brain blazed with her desire, and it screamed out of her in the heavy darkness.
Take me.
More serpentine coils wound up and down her body, sliding around her waist to lift her up. They were cool and smooth—her flesh sang where they moved against it. The same pleasant but terrible sensation pressed against her back, and the head of one of the coils nudged between her thighs.
She wondered if Ron had returned. On any other night, even in sleep paralysis she could sense him in bed beside her. What if he woke up to see this? What would he do?
The coil prodded the generous wetness dripping from her. She grew tense—or at least she would have, if she could have broken out of her frozen state—but instead of slipping its sinuous length inside her ready sex, satisfying her curiosity and longing, it pressed against her other, tighter entrance.
"Oh... no... " she said, though the sound came out a weak, muffled groan.
I haven't ever...it can't...
Was it her own wetness the organ touched her with? Or did it have its own to share? It wound and nudged, she felt the cold kiss of slick anointment, preparing her for its next move.
Then the sinuous appendage thrust into her hard, heedless of the cry of pain she tried to shout against the coil around her throat. Thick, rigid, it throbbed within her and she felt every overwhelming swell. The hands on her shoulders tightened; her captor thrust down, deep against her body, vicious and lustful, sending pain and wickedly enticing pleasure through her all at once. Her brain was full of the riotous wrongness of it, but like a sweet drug it only made the whole experience more enticing, more violently satisfying.
She didn't come to climax, or even want to. This dream steeped her in fervent, lecherous pleasure, the wicked
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