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The Psychology of Dreams 101 Episode 11

 

Psychology of Dreams cover12985576_1537272663241009_8777292825525497968_nWelcome to Part 11 of The Psychology of Dreams, in which Leah takes control of the dream.

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, and her psychology of dreams teacher, Al. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

No, I didn’t dream it, and I’m seriously hoping I don’t get punished like Leah and Al do if I don’t get it quite right, but The Psychology of Dreams did bubble up from somewhere in my unconscious and I had to share it. Since then,the Muse has been back knocking around in my imagination in some pretty unusual ways, and never taking the path I’d expect, but then dreams are like that, aren’t they? Enjoy episode 8!

 

I have no idea how long this little ditty will be, nor where it will lead, but I’m willing if you are. Please, read and enjoy The Psychology of Dreams 101.

 

If you’ve missed Episode 1, find it here. 

 

WARNING ADULT CONTENT! It occurred to me halfway through writing this episode of The Psychology of Dreams that this little tale might be a bit of a shock for those who just finished reading In The Flesh. While In The Flesh is dark paranormal romance, The Psychology of Dreams is just raunchy, fun erotica, a bit of light relief after Magda and her Consortium. Be warned, light it may be, but filthy it most certainly is. Enjoy!

 

Chapter 11 Dominating the Dream

The car dissolved around them. They were suddenly back in Dr. Clyde’s office, and it was Al’s cock she was sucking. Dr. Clyde watched from behind his desk. “So how long have you been having these dreams, Leah?” He asked, make some note on his legal pad.

She released Al’s cock with a pop of her lips, and he gave a soft curse of protest as she wiped her mouth and sat down next to him. “Only since I started taking Al’s Psychology of Dreams class. But not at the beginning. At the beginning, I couldn’t remember my dreams at all. Al told me to set an alarm and keep a journal and a pen on my bedside table.” Right on cue, her alarm went off, and she sprang up like a jack in the box in the middle of her own bed, fumbled for the dream journal and pen on her nightstand and began to write furiously. Dawn was just breaking when she finished the details of the dream uninterrupted. She was just beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, the whole thing had been nothing more than a dream, all the way back to her first meeting with Al after class, when she heard a soft moan and felt motion in the bed next to her.

“Did you get it all written down?” Dr. Clyde lay next to her naked, stroking his cock, as he craned his neck to read what she’d written, and her heart sunk, even as the man’s tugging and pulling of his cock aroused her.

“Where’s Al,” she asked laying the journal back on the nightstand.

“He’ll meet us in the dungeon,” Dr. Clyde reached out and gave her breasts a fondle as she settled back against the headboard, realizing with a start that she was naked too. “It’s time for his dream now.”

“But we haven’t finished mine.”

“After observing the two of you in the dream, I’ve developed a theory.”

“A theory?”

“I think that perhaps we won’t be able to finish your dream until we visit Al’s dreamscape. The two are somehow linked. We’ve established that fact already. Your dreams didn’t start until you began keeping a dream journal for Al’s class.”

“Okay, then what do I need to do?” she said, bracing herself for another long scenario in Dreamland.

“Put those on.” Dr. Clyde nodded to a pair of thigh-high black boots that looked way more scary than sexy with their trim of chain and dog collar spikes. Lying across the foot of the bed, where she was certain there had been nothing before was a black leather corset and a scary-looking leather flogger. She panicked. “I can’t wear those. I’m not a dominatrix.”

“You are in Al’s dream.” He gave a little shrug, as he stood to put on his usual dapper shirt and trousers. “Well someone is in Al’s dream, and he knows it’s a woman. It might as well be you since you’re the only woman in this dream.” He gave his tie a final tug into position, adjusted his collar and nodded the door. “Dungeon is in there.” And suddenly they were back in his office again, her dressed in the black leather corset and boots, flogger in hand. The good doctor nodded to a door to the left of the Cordovan sofa. When she balked, he nodded again. “Well, go on then. We don’t have all night.”

They did, actually, the did have all night, but that was something she’d rather not be reminded of. Being held captive in your own dream was turning out to be a nightmare within itself, she thought. She took a deep breath and pulled open the door. To her surprise it didn’t lead to a dark, kinky dungeon, but instead it lead right back to Al’s classroom.

Al, who had been pacing in front of the desk, turned to them, gave her a lookover that seemed more shell-shocked than aroused. She blushed. Then he glanced up at Dr. Clyde. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for ages.”

“No you haven’t,” Clyde said. “It just seems that way because you’re dreaming. Do you have it?”

“What do you mean, do I have it?” Al replied. “Why the hell would I have it? It doesn’t belong to me. I didn’t even know she was going to do … that, until she did. Besides how do you know it was Leah?”

“Dreams always provide you with everything you need.” The doctor moved behind the desk and pulled open the bottomless middle drawer from which he extracted a shiny black strap-on in a leather harness and handed it to Leah, holding it up by the harness as though it were a fish on the line.

Leah stepped back shaking her head. “I can’t put that on. I can’t …” she nodded at Al, who was already opening his fly. “I can’t … do him.”

“Of course you can, ”Clyde said. “We’re in Al’s dream now, Leah, darling, and if he dreams that you fuck his tender backside, then you’ll not only do just that, but you’ll enjoy it immensely, and so will he.”

Al nodded his agreement as he lowered his jeans and boxers over his hips and shoved them down around his knees. His cock looked pretty enthusiastic.

“Here, let me help you into that,” Dr. Clyde said as he hurried Leah into the strap-on and tightened the harness with efficiency that made her suspect he’d done this before.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she said again, looking down at the shiny black dildo bobbing in front of her, and in spite of herself, she felt the clench and tremble of growing arousal. “I don’t think I can — ” Her words died in her throat with a little gasp as Al knelt in front of her, hands crossed behind his back as though they had been tied and, gaze locked on her, took the dildo deep into his mouth. The first awkward movement made his eyes water, made him choke and sputter, but when she tried to back away, Dr. Clyde moved up close behind her and gently stroked her hair. “Let him do this. Let him show you how to dominate him, then you’ll intuit what he needs, what you both need.” He guided her hand onto Al’s head, and she curled her fingers in his hair, easing him forward, urging him to take the dildo deeper, which he did willingly, enthusiastically. With only a little more battling to relax the gag reflex, to open deep to her, he found his rhythm, tears streaming from his efforts, saliva sheening his chin and, in his rhythm, the doctor lowered his hand to her hip and began to rock her forward and back until she got it, until she got the shove and thrust of the dildo, the urgent clench of gluteal muscles, the desperate push of the pubic bone. It was the rhythm of sex, the male rhythm of sex, the primal demand to penetrate, to dominate, to possess. She was lost in the archetypal power of its otherness, so different from her own sexuality – a power she did not, by nature possess, but took upon herself now as it was offered up to her, and into the press of heavy breathing and suckling and groaning, came the zip of a fly, and the heavy insistence of Dr. Clyde’s erection against her bare ass startled her out of the mental space where she’d been. As he worried her open with his fingers to make her ready, her anger rose.

“Did I give you permission to fuck me, Clyde?” She was startled to find that even her voice sounded different, deeper, more powerful.

f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6a    “But I thought – ”

“I didn’t give you permission to think either. I dominate this dream, and you will do nothing without my orders, is that clear?”

“But I — ”

“Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress,” came the reply that sounded as unlike the arrogant, in control, Dr. Clyde as her own voice sounded like the shy reclusive Leah, and she felt a surge of power deep in her core.

“Good, then I want you to make Al ready for me.”

“Mistress?” Clyde’s face went crimson, and he glanced desperately at the door behind them.

“You heard me. I want you to make him ready for me. I want to fuck him, and I want him to be open for me when I do.”

 

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