Dreams and Desires by Paul Blades

of his physical control of her, had excited his human body. His cock had grown hard. He placed his smooth, strong hands on the woman's soft, inviting breasts. It was strange to him how his body derived such pleasure from the feel of the plump mounds. She moaned her unhappiness at his touch. But once he began to send his signals of pleasure to her, her face began to soften and her breath eased from its rapid, panicky pace, to a long, soft sigh.
    Kelly watched with fear as the man gave her breasts gentle, loving strokes. Warmth and pleasure seemed to flow through the strong, large hands that had engulfed them. She felt her desire begin to rise and she cursed herself for it. What kind of woman was she, she thought, that a mere caress of her breasts could so immediately and intensely drive her lusts. Unwillingly, she gave a long, deep sigh of passion. She thought of her naked and exposed sex. The fact that her lower body was restricted from her view, blocked by the bulk of the man's body, made it feel more exposed and vulnerable than it would have otherwise. It made her think of a phrase from a book she had read as a young girl, “...that part of her body that could be used independent of the rest.” The book had made her, at the time, long for the release from responsibility for her desires. She had forgotten about it, put those feelings away as foibles of youth. But now it came back to her, how the men in the book had imposed pleasure on the pretty, young woman. It was what this man was doing to her now.
    Kelly felt as if the man was transmitting some kind of drug or power to her body through his hands. What kind of man was he? Why had she dreamed of him? She did not believe in precognition or any such hocus pocus. But here he was, identical to the dream man of her visions. It just couldn't be happening!
    He had still not spoken a word to her. His cold gaze belied the passion she knew her body raised in him. She could feel his stiff prick on her belly, his unsheathed sword with which he would soon penetrate her. How could he be capable of such strong desire, such raging lust that he would invade a stranger's home and violate her against her will and yet remain apparently so self possessed?
    The man had been softly caressing her blood filled breasts for several minutes now. He stroked them slowly upwards, his large hands virtually surrounding them and then closing as they reached the tips, administering sharp pinches to the hard, distended nipples. Kelly felt as if every inch of her breasts were hotwired for sensation. The man's motions mesmerized her, caused her exposed pussy to burn. Her mind didn't want it, but her body relished the man's touch, each connection between their bare skins.
    Having satisfied his hands’ lust for her soft orbs, Kelly's tormentor slid his body down her torso, until his lips could reach her stiff teats. He took them in his mouth, one by one, savoring their hardness, sucking and licking at them. His hard prick lay along the puffed lips of her sexual opening, as if presaging its penetration of her. The heat of his tongue and lips sent tingles of pleasure through the captive woman's body. She moaned again, half in protest, half in pleasure. She tried to will her bound hands free, but the cords that held them, imprisoned them under her back, were tight and sure. He slid further down her body, forcing his legs between hers. She watched as his hand glided across her taut belly and over her upper thighs. She tried to push them together to deny her assailant access to her tender flesh, but the man had captured her right leg with his left and was pushing against her other with his right knee, forcing her legs wide apart.
    Kelly's body shuddered as she felt the man's thick finger trace the line of her already moistened slit. Delicately, as if handling a baby bird, he stroked her there, drawing her deeper and deeper into her need. She felt the tender lips parted, felt the finger delve inside. It slid easily