Dreams

Larry was standing in front of the padded door with 'Lady X' written on it. He wore his military uniform, as was alone in the hallway.

The door opened, and all his dead team members were standing at attention on his right, bloody and mutilated. On his left, his superior officers did the same, but with fuming cigars and whiskey in their hand, unharmed.

At the end of this grotesque series of salutations, sat Alex in her spotless white dress on her throne.

She beckoned him to come closer with her legs wide open. She was a real life goddess, waiting just for him.

Something invisible tugged at him, leaving him no choice but to step forward. With only that one step, he found himself undressed and in front of Alex.

The woman stood up, her soft, warm breasts touching his bare stomach - she was smaller than him, barely reaching the top of his shoulders.

She then reached up to grab his nape with both hands, and pulled him downward. Larry felt the strange tugging again, and soon found himself kneeling before Alex.

She had a perfect little belly button, situated deep between her firm abdominal muscles. Her tall, round hip compensated the sporty features, inviting him to release his seed to that safe and nurturing darkness.

He felt an officer from behind his back placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You know your mission, soldier. Finish her by all means. That's the only thing you should focus on." Sounded the faceless order.

Right after that, the sounds of his squad members' death resounded in his head, yet he felt an overwhelming urge to take the woman in front of him.

It took him what seemed like eternity to shake off his shock and guilt he felt for his fellow squad members. He suffered with them, and wanted nothing more than to run away from their pain, but he couldn't. He was stuck.

Suddenly he felt the tugging again, and felt Alex's hands on his ears. She shielded him from the maddening noises, smiling at him warmly.

She slowly laid down on the floor, guiding Larry on top of her, not moving her hands from her head. Clutched her legs around his hip, and welcomed his throbbing erection into her.

He felt his burdens melt away with each thrust.

He felt seen and heard without words.

She protected him all the way, not looking away from his eyes even once.

He started slow, wanting to be gentle.

His urges soon overcame him, and he picked up the pace.

He thrusted deeper and deeper, feeling like she is swallowing his lower body altogether.

He reached climax, but kept going.

Once was not enough.

He was high on pleasure and he had a duty.

He wanted more.

Second time at the top, and he still felt the need to thrust.

His mission was not completed.

Alex just smiled gently at him, as if she wasn't involved in the animalistic ritual at all.

Hours turned into days.

Larry lost count of the number of times he came inside Alex.

At last, he felt his job was done.

He stood up to help Alex to her feet.

Just to find her bloody corpse on the floor, with his lower body bathed in her body fluids.

****

Larry woke up with a start.

He was covered in sweat head to toe, his heart was beating like crazy, and he felt stuffy in his boxers.

He looked around confused. It took him a few seconds to recognise his own bedroom. Then he took a look at himself, and noticed the particular stain at his groin.

< Now that's new. > He thought with some surprise.

He was already used to nightmares, he actually expected them every night. Cold sweats and confusion was a normal part of his mornings.

However, he usually didn't fuck hot women to death in his dreams.

Since he left the army, his libido was practically non-existent due to trauma, PTSD and depression. Consequently, he wasn't looking for any kind of intimate relationship, not to mention romantic connection.

He was simply too broken for these things. He couldn't muster the energy to care either. He felt lonely sometimes, and empty most of the time, but he was fine with that.

As long as he didn't have to be responsible for others or make decisions about them, he was fine with his emotional - and physical - isolation.

Feelings of shame and disgust about such a gory dream would require a funcional moral compass, and emotions in general. Lacking, or rather suppressing these, he just found it odd.

< It's not the first time I dream of her either. How many days have passed since then? A week, maybe? More? My sense of time is so fucked. >

He got up, completed his morning routine with the effectiveness he learnt during his training days. Made coffee and scrambled eggs for breakfast, then headed to the beach to take his usual walk.

He didn't have the determination to work out anymore, but an hour long beach walk early morning kept the often suffocating guilt at bay.

His head was clear and quiet there.

As he put one foot in front of the other without any particular thought, he noticed barefoot prints in the still wet sand. The water ebbed around this time, so the waves didn't erase them.

They were small, probably a boy's or a woman's. On a whim, he started to follow those signs of another human. Maybe his unconscious had enough of loneliness.

Soon another set joined the trail. If he had spared even one second to think, he would have turned back and gone on with his business.

He was already on autopilot though, like a hound rounding up game for his masters. He stopped only when he registered two feet and two hands on the sand in front of him.

Lifting up his head, he noticed a few more details. The smaller footprints indeed belonged to a woman. She was sitting with her arms around her knees. Next to her a man wearing something strange on his face, he assumed a position similar to a lying dog - legs folded below his belly, his palms on the sand, head held high.

His first thought was that he's actually still dreaming. The shower, coffee, breakfast and the beach was all part of his nightmare, and he'll wake up soon.

It was Alex, holding an unknown man, who wore a human muzzle, on a leash.