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The Psychology of Dreams 101: Episode 8

f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6aWelcome to Part 8 of The Psychology of Dreams, in which things turn dark. Awe, come on! You knew they would, didn’t you?

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 7, 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 8 In The Dark

“In a coma.” Leah repeated the words in barely more than a whisper. A wave of vertigo washed over her and the diner suddenly tilted as though they were on the deck of a ship at sea. “In a coma,” she said again, a little louder, and the lovers shot her a worried glance from across their sundae, full spoons halfway to their mouths. Before she realized what was happening she grabbed Al by the shirtsleeve and all but dragged him from the booth, with him slapping down twenty dollars for the untouched food as she headed for the door, the lovers and the waitress looking on.

“Leah. Leah! What are you doing?”

She shoved through the door, him right behind her. “I’m going to your car and you’re going to drive us to Dr. Clyde and have him undo the hypnosis and then,” she turned so fast that he all but ran into her, and they stood nose to nose in the darkened parking lot, “then I’ll have a thought as to whether I want to bring charges.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back so quickly that the vertebrae in her neck popped in protest. “What are you going to charge him with, Leah? What? I can’t prove he’s done anything, and it wasn’t like the dreams were bad, was it?”

“And that’s another thing,” she said, jerking her arm away so hard that she nearly went over backward, “you were in the dream; you seem to know exactly what was going on or how else would you know that he’s manipulating my dreams unless you’re doing the same thing?”

“Seriously? You think I would do that?” He seemed offended by the obvious.

“Under the circumstances, what the hell do you expect me to think? And if it’s not so, then how about we ask the good doctor to send us into your dream instead of mine, hmm? How about we give that a try?”

“Christ, Leah, do you really think it’s that simple? You make it sound like Derrick is going to put us on a plane and send us to Mexico or something. It doesn’t work that way, and I really don’t want to discuss this with you in the parking lot at Eddie’s Diner.” He took her arm again, this time more gently, and she didn’t protest as he guided her to his car. “Get in.”

She settled into the care in another wave of vertigo, struggling to get her head around the horror story he’d just told her dark moon image_xl_6338206and the fear that she might have just landed in the middle of her own nightmare. When the feeling of being at sea passed and she could focus again, she realized they were heading out Highway 26 toward Mount Hood, and she was fine with that, though it disturbed her a bit that she still trusted him. Once again, in spite of all his reassurances to the contrary, she wondered if they were still in a dream.

When he remained silent, offering no information, she screwed up her courage and asked what happened next, even though she was pretty sure she would be sorry she asked.

For a long moment, she thought he was ‘t going to answer her, and she was about to ask again, more adamantly, when he hauled a deep breath into his lungs and spoke. “Obviously I couldn’t wake them up, but I could find nothing wrong either of them. For all practical purposes, they seemed to be simply sleeping, only no matter what I did, I couldn’t wake them of. Of course I wanted to make it right as soon as possible, I thought if I could pull them out of it before morning, then I would send Diana on her way, that was the woman’s name. She was a mutual friend – and no one would be the wiser. As for Derrick, well I wasn’t sure if I’d kill him or just beat the shit out of him. I was bigger then. I worked out in a boxing gym for stress relief, lifted a few weights.” She could see the curve of his lips in the pale lighting of the dashboard, a smile that was anything but happy, as he found himself transported into the past he’d rather not remember. “Looks like we’ve changed roles. Though I haven’t seen him since …” His voice drifted off and she could almost hear him thinking.

“I tried everything I could think of. You have to understand, I was scared. I was desperate.”

“What did you do?” The feeling of dread around her was thicker than the darkness in the evergreen woods on both sides of the road.

He glanced over at her as though she’d just asked the stupidest question ever. “I did the only thing I could do. I entered their dream.”

“Like you did mine?”

His laugh was nearly a growl, surprising in its bitterness. “Oh it was nothing like what’s happening with you, Leah. I didn’t come into your dream intentionally. You dreamed me there, and I have no idea how I actually became conscious of being there.”

“Then what?” She asked, seriously not wanting to know the answer and yet knowing she had to – needed to.

“I did the self-hypnosis ritual we’d been perfecting, careful to make sure all the safeties were in place. I was always the Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bmost safety conscious of the two of us, and yet it was Derrick’s willingness to take a risk that had been responsible for a log of our break-throughs. Anyway, never mind that. It doesn’t matter now, except that it would appear nothing has changed. In my case, it was wise to take every precaution though. I was the only one in the waking world who had a clue how to deal with what was going on, and even I could barely get my head round it. I was afraid they wouldn’t let me in. That was always a possibility, that a subject wouldn’t let us in or they’d push us out. It happened occasionally. In fact it was responsible for almost 75% of our failures. I needn’t have worried though. Derrick all but dragged me on by the collar.”

“What, did he want you for a bit of ménage? Was that it?”

“He needed my help.”

“For what?”

“To talk Diana back from the dream.”

“Jesus,” she whispered, as another wave of vertigo hit, and she laid her head back against the seat and forced her feet hard against the floorboard to keep the car from tilting.

He continued. “I found them both in the middle of some dark city. I didn’t recognize it, but it was a sea of skyscrapers that went on forever. You know how dreams are. The were so high that, from the roof, you could barely see the street below, and they were standing on the roof of the highest one.’

There was another pause as he turned off highway 26 onto a forest service road that led deep into the woods, and her chest clenched and vertigo gave way to panic.

“Where are you taking me?” She undid her seatbelt, ready to leap from the car, which had slowed for the turn. “Al where the hell are you taking me?”

“Leah! Leah, calm down.” He stopped the car gently, and reached across to touch her shoulder, and the panic dissipated with the sound of his voice. “I’m sorry, Leah. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I should have asked first before I decided to bring you here. It’s just a campground where my parents used to take me when I was a kid. We always spent a week here at huckleberry picking time.”

That still didn’t make her feel really comfortable, but then nothing did right now.

“I can go somewhere else if you’d like. It’s just that I wanted … I just wanted to be some place neutral, you know, someplace with good memories attached to it.” When she made no effort to jump out of the car and make a run for it — not that she was sure her legs would have supported her anyway – he reached across her and buckled the belt back around her.

“No it’s fine. I’m fine.” She wasn’t, but she reminded herself again that she wasn’t likely to be any better wherever they were.

He started the engine again, and they drove in silence for a few more minutes before he turned into the deserted campground and, in another wave of vertigo, her adrenaline spiked at all the horrid possibilities of being alone with a man she barely knew, and yet here she was. Here they were, and Al was the only one who could tell her what was going on. He drove to a grassy spot near the back of the campground where a stream gurgled softly over rocks, and she couldn’t help feeling they were still in a dream, though a peaceful dream. Well, peaceful at least for the moment. No doubt that would change when he continued his tale.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” He asked.

“No. I’m not all right, but here’s fine. It’s nice.”

“Leah, I would never hurt you.”

“I know.” And she did, thought she didn’t know how she knew. She opened the door and stepped out into the velvety Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020warmth of one of the few summer nights in the Northwest that didn’t have at least a little nip to it. Not looking to see if he followed suit, she moved across the grass and sat down by the edge of the water, which filled the quiet night with its tinkle and murmur. Somewhere close by an owl trilled in the trees. Al came and sat beside her. For a moment neither of
them said anything. For a moment she wanted to pretend that everything was normal. For a moment she wanted to pretend that they were just two lovers who had found a lovely spot for some sex al fresco and, for a moment, she wanted pull him down on the grass and make love to him. For a moment she knew he would let her if she did. She brushed her hand against his and he caught her fingers in his slightly calloused ones and gave them a squeeze. She was just about to lean on and kiss him when he shattered all illusion.

“I said that Derrick was trying to talk Diana back from the dream. It was more than that, Leah, way more than that. He was trying to talk her back from the rooftop. She was about to jump.”


The Psychology of Dreams 101 Chapter 4

f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6aIn Part 4 of The Psychology of Dreams, Dr. Clyde becomes Leah and Al’s dream advisor by default.

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, in The Psychology of Dreams 101.

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 4!

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.

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 3, Find it here. 



Chapter 4 In Command of the Dream

“It didn’t work,” Leah said as she sat down next to Al on the cordovan leather sofa in Dr. Clyde’s office.

The good doctor looked up from the legal pad on which he’d been taking notes and gave a wide-eyed blink as though he’d been completely unaware of their presence until just this second. He laid the pen down on the pad and glanced from one of them to the other. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Leah said. “I went to Al’s classroom, but it was locked and empty.”

“Nothing happened for me either,” Al said. “I just knelt naked on the floor of the dungeon, but no one ever came to bind me and … use me.”

“There was no word,” Leah continued, “At least not one I’m aware of. The dream was less satisfying than ever, because this time I knew what was supposed to happen. This time I had expectations, and now I’m even more frustrated than I was before.”

“Nothing happened,” they both protested at the same time, and as they did so, Dr. Clyde picked up the pen on his pad and wrote in big square letters. NOTHING HAPPENED, and suddenly they were all three back in Al’s classroom. Al sat in the chair with his belt in his hand, Leah stood before him in her transparent red underwear, and Dr. Clyde sat cross-legged on top of Al’s desk, pad and pen at the ready.

“Sometimes even recurring dreams take unexpected twists and turns.” He nodded to Al and gave Leah a little shooing motion with his pen. “Well, get on with it.” He glanced down at his watch. “There’s a lot more to get through before dawn if the two of you are serious about finishing the dream before you wake up. Oh, and Al, I would suggest that when Leah begins to squirm and get restless, you finger her snatch a bit, you know, change the game plan, hold her attention in the dream with a little enticement other than pain. Nothing’s quite as enticing as just the right mix of pleasure and pain, I bet you didn’t think about it when you were spanking her before, did you?”

“It’s not my dream,” Al said, as he pulled Leah down across his knees and raised the belt.

“Well in that case you can be forgiven, I suppose, but Leah, when it’s gets all squirmy for you and you don’t know whether to cry or come, tell him. Tell Al how his smacking of your little bare bottom is making you horny; remind him that he doesn’t have to be so single-minded with your punishment. It’s all right for him to be creative. It’s your dream, as he says. You tell him what you want from it.”

whisky-630x383“Can I do that?” she asked. “Is this supposed to happen? Are you even supposed to be here?”

“It’s your dream,” he replied with a little shrug. “If you want me to leave, just say the word.”

“No. No it’s all right. You can stay.” Leah found that the idea of the ever so dapper Dr. Clyde watching her get spanked made her transparent underpants even wetter, but as she bent back over Al’s lap and once again Al raised his belt, Dr. Clyde interrupted again.

“Wait, wait, wait! Al, haven’t you ever done this before? Pull her panties down, at least; or if not, pull them to one side and expose the round little buttock you’re about to smack. Better yet, expose them one at a time as you smack them in turn. Yeah, that’s better still, don’t you think, Leah.”

Leah’s planned comment of agreement came out as a little yelp and a moan as Al wriggled fingers into the leg of her panties and slid the crotch aside.

“Oh he likes that, Leah, doesn’t he like that?” Dr. Clyde said.

When she glanced up at him, confused and red-faced from the blood rushing to her head, he shook his head and made a derisive sound at the back of his throat. “Well, give a little wriggle. Surely you can feel his hard-on. You are hard, aren’t you, Al? Hell, I’m hard as a rock, and I’m just watching.”

Leah did as he said and the resulting gasp from her and groan and squirm from Al made comment unnecessary. Once again Dr. Clyde motioned for them to get on with it.

But as the first blow fell and Leah’s world flashed bright with red hot pain and there was nothing at all sexy about what she was feeling, it was the good doctor’s stopping of the action that gave her blazing ass a temporary reprieve. “No, no, no! Not like that, Al. You’re spanking her, for fuck sake, not tenderizing a steak with a hammer. Christ! Haven’t you ever spanked a woman before?”

“No! I haven’t. Why would I? It’s not my fucking dream.” Al’s voice rose defensively, then he added quickly. “Leah, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Leah was all but in tears when the doctor helped her up off Al’s lap, while Al apologized profusely.

“Well it’s certainly no wonder the two of you can’t seem to get through your dream punishments, talk
about a couple of true blue vanilla beans.” Before either could protest, he pulled a bottle of Glenmorangie from the bottom desk drawer along with three finely cut crystal glass and poured a generous tot in each. “What?” he replied to their shocked stares. “It’s a dream, for fuck sake, and sometimes you need a little liquid courage even in a dream.” He handed them each a glass. Once they’d all had a good solid sip, he sat his drink down, rubbed his hands together and gave the two of them a good sizing-up. “Right, first of all, let’s do something about your poor little stinging bottom, Leah, and then we’ll try again.” He moved the bottle and his glass aside and nodded her to bend over the desk. When she balked, he said, “oh don’t worry. I’m not going to spank it, I’m just going to make it feel better.”

She shot Al a glance, but he only shrugged, so she downed her whisky for courage, handed the glass to Al and did as the good doctor said. The red panties had ridden up into her butt crack with the first disastrous smack of the belt and she hadn’t noticed until Dr. Clyde carefully slid fingers into the waistband and peeled them down around her knees, leaving them there, almost as s reminder that at the end of the day this was still a punishment and she was a captive audience in this dream, if Dr. Clyde’s hypnotism had worked as he claimed. For some reason, that made her squirm against the desk with added excitment.

“Now let’s see what we have here.” Leah could feel his warm breath against her bare ass, which made her Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bsquirm even more. He let out a low whistle. “Oh my! You did leave a mark, Al. Would you like to see, Hon?” He addressed Leah ignoring Al’s awkward attempts at an apology as he produced a large square mirror from the desk drawer. It was way too big to fit into the drawer. It reminded Leah of the vanity mirror in her bedroom. Come to think of it, the thing was exactly like her vanity mirror, but then it was her dream, after all. She strained to look over her shoulder as the doctor positioned the mirror to reflect her glowing red left butt cheek, the sight of which had her squirming against the desktop again. Dr. Clyde chuckled knowingly. “Sometimes it’s worth the pain to see the end result,” he said. “However, all things in good time, and Al was a little heavy-handed a little too soon. Oh do shut up, Al! A Dom does not apologize for doling out deserved punishment, and yes, my lad, in this dream, you are a Dom, so get used to it and do it right or we may never get out of this dream.”



The Psychology of Dreams 101: Part 2

Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, has in the second instalment of The Psychology of Dreams 101.

No, I didn’t dream it, and I’m seriously hoping I dot 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 last week, and I had to share it. The Muse has been back knocking around in my imagination again, so today I’m back with another instalment of a new serial.

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.

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.




The Psychology of Dreams 101: Chapter 2

Blank Pages and Punishment 

“I’m not pleased with your dream journal, Leah.” It was so much like the dream, that it took her breath away. She stood before Al Foster’s desk in the empty classroom, him offering her a concerned look over the top of his glasses. It was so much like the dream, in fact, that she gave a quick glance down to make sure she still wore jeans and a pullover and not transparent red underwear.

“I don’t understand,” she said, clasping her bag to her chest to hide the press of her nipples, which didn’t really care if she wore red underwear or not. They seemed more interested in the close proximity of Al Foster.

“Why are you writing down made-up dreams? I can tell when you’re making it up, Leah. I can always tell. Is the technique I shared with you not working? If not, just tell me and we can try something else.”

“I haven’t been using the technique,” she blurted. “I haven’t needed to.” Fuck! That was an unfortunate slip.


She tried to recall if she’d ever seen bluer eyes than his. Her dreams got it right, even with the glasses that made him look like a sexy nerd, you couldn’t miss the blue. His unkempt blond hair was the color of ripe wheat. Her dreams got that right too. She loved the way it fell down all disorderly and wild over his eyes when he spanked her.

“Leah? Are you all right?”

She jumped at the sound of her name. “I’m sorry. I’ve not been sleeping well,” she said. She didn’t know why she said that. If anything she’d been sleeping too well.

“Oh?” He slid his chair back and came to stand beside her. He was taller than she thought, and she blushed at the sight of his belt, brown leather. It looked soft like swede, but she knew it packed a wallop – at least it did when he wielded it. “Is it because of the dreams?” His blue gaze studying her from behind the glasses made her feel like she was under a microscope or in front of a two-way mirror, made her feel like she was standing there in his classroom in nothing but transparent red underwear. “Leah,” he said, touching her shoulder and gently guiding her to sit in one of the seats in the front row, while he pulled a chair up to face her. “Are the dreams erotic? Is that why you feel you can’t write them down for me? Because everyone has erotic dreams and, in fact, they may well be more likely to if they’re keeping a dream journal for sharing.

“They’re about you.” She hadn’t planned to say that. She’d planned to lie, but she was never very good at lying.

He blinked, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “About me.”

She nodded.

“Well,” he scooted back ever so slightly and straightened in his chair so that he could study her more Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bcarefully, “that’s not unusual either.” He smiled, and a soft blush crawled up his neck and onto his cheeks. “I’ve actually had students make up dreams about me. They were surprised when I called them on it. I have to say you’re the first woman to do the opposite, to hide those dreams from me. Oh, it’s not unusual for people to try to hide their erotic dreams, not at all, but I can pretty much guess that if a particularly steamy dream turns up about me, the writer is a woman. She’s made it up, and it’s more a fantasy than any dream she’s likely to have.”

“Oh believe me, it’s better this way,” she managed, still clutching her bag to her chest. “I mean me keeping them from you. I … I could barely write them down for myself.”

“But you did then? You did write them down?”

She nodded, her mouth gone suddenly dry. She hadn’t meant to tell him that either. “Just not in there.” She gestured to her class dream journal laying on his desk.

“I see.” He ran a hand through his hair leaving it standing in spikes and waves, making her ache to straighten it for him, or maybe muss it up further. “Leah, will you let me read the real journal. No one will know what you wrote but you and I, and I understand the psychology of dreams; I understand that we have no control over what happens in the unconscious. I promise I would never –”

“You spank me,” she blurted.

He sucked a heavy breath. “I spank you?”

“Yes, you spank me, and you tell me you’ll keep punishing me until I get my dreams right, until I dream about you, and it’s always the same, with the two of us alone in this room and you taking your belt off and you turning me over your knee and telling me that if you spank me, then maybe the pain in my — ” she made a quick jerk of her neck toward her backside “—will help remind me to dream of you. There’s only the one dream,” she added quickly, “well variations of it.”

After a few fish gasps and another hand through his hair, he squared his shoulders, and shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I see. So, recurring dreams, are they?” He offered her a smile that wavered only slightly.

“Recurring? Yes, I suppose they are. I never thought of it like that.” If she was going to be brave enough to tell him the truth, then she might as well show him the rest of it too. She dug in her bag for her real dream journal and pulled out the page that she’d torn from the one for class, the page with the note she’d written to herself. “I woke up to find this in my journal after the first spanking dream.” She handed it to him.

To her shock and discomfort, he read it out loud.

You look beautiful when you dream. It was a good dream, the kind you don’t want to wake up from. At last, Leah, you’re doing it right! You can always tell when you do it right by the way your nipples bead beneath the sheet, by the way your lips turn up at the corners, slightly parted as though waiting to be kissed. And, take a sniff, Leah. Your scent is the scent of dreams well dreamed, luscious and ripe. Well done, Leah! Well done!

For a moment they both sat in silence, him staring down at the words on the page, her staring at her feet.Dreams imageIMG_0347 Then he took off his glasses and joined her in gazing at his own feet. At last he raised his eyes back to her and took a deep breath. “Why did you tear this out?”

“Because I don’t remember writing it. It’s not a dream, it’s like, I don’t know, me talking to myself in my sleep or something, and I thought if you read it you’d think … ”

“I’d think what?”

“That I just made it up that I was just being … you know, pathetic.”

“Why would I think that?” He put his glasses back on and looked at the note again. “It seems to me like your unconscious had you pegged pretty well here,” then he added quickly, “of course I don’t know what you look like when you dream or what your physiological responses are, but it makes sense. I … I smell differently when I wake up after a strong dream, and,” he looked away quickly, “I get … hard too, when I’m doing it right.” He blushed and she blushed for him and they were both looking at their feet again.

“But how can there be a right way and a wrong way to dream? I mean I’ve read way ahead in the texts you’ve recommended and done some research on my own. We really sort of just dream what we dream, don’t we?”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, scooting closer to her with a screech of the chair legs on the floor. “But then I started getting … comments like this.” He nodded down to her note, “comments from my unconscious, I assume, and I also have dreams about not doing it right.”

“Did you get … you know … spanked?”

This time it was more than a blush, his whole face redden, and the fine muscles along his cheek bones twitched. “It was rather more than a spanking, I’m afraid.”

“More than a spanking?” Her pulse hammered in her words, as she pushed forward on the edge of her seat.

“Do you know anything about BDSM, Leah?” His own pulse kept beat in his words and thudded in his throat as he pinned her in his gaze.

“A little. I’ve read a few novels, done a bit of research … online,” she added quickly.

“Does it frighten you?”

“A little yes. And it intrigues me.”

“This time I was tied up, flogged and had … implements placed …” He looked away as though he expected to find the words he was looking for floating on the air outside the window in the parking lot. “I had things shoved up my … butt,” he finally managed avoiding her gaze.

“Oh? Oh, wow!” The words were out before she could stop them. And they were followed in rapid succession by, “how was it?”

“Not like I expected.” He forced himself to meet her gaze. “I woke up … aroused,” he gave a little nod and lowered his eyes to the note still clenched in his hand. “I had to masturbate before I could function and, after, I found a note in my dream journal similar to this. One I don’t remember writing. Anyway,” he said looking up at her again. “The person doing things to me, in my dream, she kept saying that I wasn’t doing it right, that I should dream about her and she would punish me until I did.”

“She?” Leah asked.” He nodded, carefully maintaining uncomfortable eye contact. “Was she me?” The words were out before she could stop them. Clearly the internal editor was having a day off, she thought.

“I honestly don’t know. I never saw her face. But I know she was a woman because I felt her breasts against my back when she moved in close to tighten my bonds.” He glanced at the door as though he feared someone might be listening there. “I know you must think me some kind of a pervert telling you this, you being my student and all, but I’ve been teaching this class for ten years – here and in other places; I’ve seen more dream journals than I could possibly keep track of, and most of them are full of dreams that are just exactly what I would expect to surface from someone’s unconscious.” He shrugged. “I get a fair few people, women in particular, faking their dreams, making them up either to impress me or because they’re embarrassed. But you – you started out writing your dreams, and then you suddenly stopped after you’d been so earnest in your efforts with the journal. I knew something was up. I could feel it. I never expected this though.” He nodded down to the note he still held, then handed it back to her.

“The thing is, Leah, no on else has ever had a similar experience, an experience that mirrors my own, until you.”

For a moment the two sat in silence, and then Leah took a deep breath. “You said ‘this time,’ like it wasn’t the first time, like it’s happened before.”

“Lots of times before.”dark moon image_xl_6338206

“And it’s different each time?”

“Not every time, but frequently. What’s always the same is that it involves some kind of erotic punishment, and I never climax in the dream, though I want to. I really need to. I wake up frustrated and unable to do anything until I … take care of it. It’s the same for you, isn’t it, Leah?”


NEW STORY! The Psychology of Dreams 101

I’m certainly empty nesting now that In The Flesh has come to an end. I had planned a few weeks off Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bwith just stories and snippets from the archives posted before I began anything major, but my Muse clearly had other ideas.

No, I didn’t dream it, but it bubbled up from somewhere last night about an hour before bedtime, so today I have the first episode of a new serial, literally just finished minutes ago. 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.

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.



The Psychology of Dreams 101 Chapter 1


You look beautiful when you dream.


That was the first sentence; that was how it all started. Leah thought it might be some sort of lucid dreaming when she saw the words scrawled across the page of her open journal on the nightstand. She’d had every intention of asking her instructor about it, but then she couldn’t really tell him the dream that had brought it on, could she? It sounded like the sort of thing the unconscious of a pathetically shy introvert would write to herself from the dream world because no one in the waking world would and, while that might be true – the pathetic introvert part, she didn’t want to make it more obvious to her instructor than it probably already was – especially when she had half a crush on him. Besides, it also sounded like the sort of thing a sex-crazed slut might write to herself when her vibe batteries ran down. That made her sound even more pathetic – the vibe and the batteries part, not the slut part.

Dreams image 2IMG_0351She had just started a course on the psychology of dreams. She tried to take advantage of the adult education classes whenever possible. It got her out of the house and forced her to interact with other people – real flesh and blood people. With her job, online shopping, online banking, direct debit, grocery delivery, she never had to leave the house really, and that suited her just fine, but she knew it shouldn’t. She knew it wasn’t healthy. Sometimes going to the classes was more of an ordeal than a pleasure, but that was not the case for the psychology of dreams class.

She had to admit, she’d taken that course because she’d overheard several women giggling and talking about how hot the instructor was and how their dreams had become very sexy since they’d started his class. A part of the class work was to keep a dream journal. The women had been sitting at the table next to her in the coffee shop pouring over their journals together and laughing about how they thought Al — Al Foster was the instructor – would respond when he read their dreams. She’d been taking a photography course then, and it had been one of the few times Leah had actually forced herself to initiate conversation, asking the women about the class. They were only too happy to share, and soon she was laughing and blushing and joking right along with them as they told her all about the psychology of dreams course and how it had truly stimulated their dream life. The next term, she signed right up.

A dream journal — that had sounded simple enough when Al – he’d insisted they all call him Al – had explained what it was. All she had to do was write down her dreams every morning when she woke up. But by the time she sat down at the breakfast table with her bowl of cereal and her coffee, dream journal and pen at the ready, she could remember nothing but bits of broken images — nothing dramatic, nothing with hidden psychological meaning – certainly nothing sexy. After a week of drawing blanks from the dream world, Al had helpfully suggested that she keep the journal open by her bed, and that she set an alarm for every two hours. When the alarm went off, she was then to write, just in a few key words of what she remembered, words that would jog her memory in the morning.

The first time the alarm went off, she woke disoriented and confused. By the time she remembered why she’d set the alarm, she also remembered she’d forgot to set the trash out for pick-up. She remembered that she needed to order some more vitamins online. She remembered that she needed to put the clothes in the dryer, but what she didn’t remember was her dreams. The second alarm, she must have unconsciously shut off before she got fully awake, but on the third, she managed a little dream snippet about chasing a big dog through the local McDonalds, a dog who had shamelessly stolen her Big Mac right out of her hand. She hated Big Macs, and big dogs made her nervous. Well that was at least something to analyze, wasn’t it? Though Freud had insisted that sometimes a cigar was just a cigar, surely that didn’t hold true for Big Macs, which she didn’t like, and big dogs, which she didn’t trust. Al would be pleased.

The second night there was a dream about a leather jacket with a huge snake for a collar, a snake that 7401867966b49d9e25e799def0c09daetalked — kind of like a parrot. There was a dream in which she’d gone to the supermarket and ended up in a maze unable to find her way out. There was a dream of planting begonias in front of the convenience store around the corner. For the rest of the week, she was excited to see that the setting of the alarms was working. Her key words helped her to remember details, and the rest was easy.

Saturday night she’d stayed up late watching a romcom marathon. She’d had popcorn, polished off the best part of a bottle of wine and there had been plenty of chocolate while she watched The Ugly Truth, Sabrina, Friends with Benefits, and When Harry Met Sally. She loved romcoms. They made her feel like there was someone for everyone, and though she wasn’t unhappy being alone, she liked the thought that somewhere out there, her counterpart was thinking the same thing.

She fell asleep halfway through Sleepless in Seattle, and when she woke up and stumbled off to bed, she’d forgot to set her dream alarms, though in truth she was beginning to remember her dreams more easily now, just as Al had said she would.

Perhaps it was OD-ing on romcoms that caused her to have sexy dream about Al. In truth they were mostly just images, disjointed, arousing, sometimes shameful images – images of walking into his office and finding him masturbating, images of somehow ending up in the men’s locker room at the gym and finding him in the shower, steamy water pulsing over strong arms and a tight ass as he hunched over himself paying particular attention to the soaping of his junk. There was one dream, however, that she remembered vividly. Al sat behind his desk in the empty classroom, clad in his usual polo shirt and jeans. He had asked her to stay after. “I’m not happy with your dream journal, Leah,” he said, looking her up and down. She suddenly felt naked, embarrassed, and dreams being what they were, well she had good reason. She wore only red lace underwear that was nearly transparent; certainly they did nothing to disguise her heavy nipples. “When are you going to learn that all you have to do is just relax and let it happen?”

“I try, Al, really I do, but I just can’t seem to dream about you.”

“Then perhaps you need a little encouragement.” He stood and pulled his belt from its loops around his waist all the while raking her with a critical gaze. “If I lay a few bright pink welts across your nice round ass, do you think maybe when you lie down in bed tonight, when your poor tender bottom touches those clean rough sheets, you might manage to remember me in your dreams?”

“Yes. Yes, I think that might help,” she said. Fuck! What was she thinking? How could she agree to such a thing? And yet, she did, most heartily she did.

Before she could say more, or rethink the arrangement, he yanked her around the desk, dropped back into the chair and pulled her over his knees. He all but tore her panties off her and she woke screaming and begging just as the first lash fell. For a moment she lay in the darkness gasping for breath, struggling with the strange mix of emotions that came from wanting the man to spank her and yet not, but certainly wishing she could go back to sleep and finish the dream. She was wet with sweat and, was she imagining it, or did her bottom actually hurt? She was definitely not imaging her state of arousal. There would be no returning to the dream world until she could make herself a little more comfortable, and that meant fantasizing about just what Al would do after he’d finished spanking her. It didn’t take her long to bring herself over the edge, and then she fell almost instantly back to sleep.

It was the morning sun streaming through the curtains she forgot to close that woke her, disappointed that Al Foster had not returned to her dreamscape, though he had, nonetheless, provided her with a good orgasm. Certainly she couldn’t’ write any of those dreams in her journal. She might have to start a private journal just for sexy dreams – assuming this wasn’t a one-off. God, she hoped this wasn’t a one-off.

As she sat up on the edge of her bed and stretched, she noticed the dream journal open with the pen america-artist-art-paintings-prints-note-cards-by-howard-chandler-christy-nude-women-reading-approximate-original-size-18x16lying across the page, which read:

You look beautiful when you dream. It was a good dream, the kind you don’t want to wake up from. At last, Leah, you’re doing it right! You can always tell when you do it right by the way your nipples bead beneath the sheet, by the way your lips turned up at the corners, slightly parted as though waiting to be kissed. And, take a sniff, Leah. Your scent is the scent of dreams well dreamed, luscious and ripe. Well done, Leah! Well done!

There was no doubt the writing was her own, though way neater than most of the scrawl she’d written at speed. The thing was, she had no memory of writing it.


In The Flesh Epilogue: Dark Paranormal Romance. Enjoy!

In the Flesh 11880534_1463650103936599_545702979581425574_nIt’s Friday, and the end is upon us! Time for the final episode of In The Flesh, in which Magda takes control once again. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this novel as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. I’ll fee a bit bereft for the next few weeks when Friday rolls around. Please share it with your friends and enjoy! And thanks so much for taking this wild journey with me!


In the Flesh  is very dark paranormal erotica. When Susan Innes comes to visit her friend, Annie Rivers, in Chapel House, the deconsecrated church that Annie is renovating into a home, she discovers her outgoing friend changed, reclusive, secretive, and completely enthralled by a mysterious lover, whose presence is always felt, but never seen, a lover whom she claims is god. As her holiday turns into a nightmare, Susan must come to grips with the fact that her friend’s lover is neither imaginary nor is he human, and even worse, he’s turned his wandering eye on Susan, and he won’t be denied his prize. If Susan is to fight an inhuman stalker intent on having her as his own, she’ll need a little inhuman help.



To read the story in its entirety up to this point, follow these links to

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16, Part 17Part 18Part 19Part 20Part 21Part 22Part 23Part 24Part 25 Part 26Part 27Part 28Part 29, Part 30Part 31Part 32Part 33, Part 34. 



You can also read In The Flesh on Wattpad.  



In The Flesh Epilogue

“Is everything all right, Alonso?” Magda knew that it wasn’t. She’d heard the little altercation between the vampire and his lover, and even had she not eavesdropped, she would have known what it was about. Everyone at High View knew what it was about. It didn’t take a great deal of intuition to figure it out.

“Fine. Everything is fine.” He made no effort to sound convincing. He knew she would know it wasn’t, and the look on his face told her he was resigned to her poking her nose in where he wished she wouldn’t.

“You’ll have to send her away, you know that, and the sooner the better. If you love Reese.”431px-Medusa_Mascaron_(New_York,_NY)

“If I love Reese?” He spun around to face her with such speed that one with human vision might have thought it magic. However one would have to be blind not to see the anguish on his face. “Dear God, Magda, you know how much I love Reese. There is no ‘if.’ Besides, against my wishes, Susan is with the angel tonight.” The word angel was tinged with bitterness, the bitterness of jealousy. Then he added with a forced smile. “There, you see, the fledgling has left the nest of her own accord.” Then he added, “does that please you?”

“Michael’s place is just down the road. Do you think that’s far enough to keep you away from the child of your heart’s blood?”

He ran a hand through his hair and paced in front of the open French doors that looked out onto the night garden below, which Reese had built for him, to which the man had fled in his anger only minutes before. “Of course it won’t be enough. There’s no place in Cumbria, not likely any place in Britain, where she’d be far enough away from me that I wouldn’t go to her. She’s like my own soul. I never would have imagined it could be thus, since my maker didn’t take the time to bond with me or aid me in any way, I didn’t know.” He turned to face Magda, the desperation etched deeply on his beautiful face. “I didn’t know.”

“Even if you had known, the bloody demon left us with little choice. We all did what we had to, and you and Susan bore the brunt of the horrific choices we had to make. And now, now that we know he’ll be taking an active role in protecting and watching over her, I’m not sure if I feel better or worse. It behooves him to take care of her, to cherish her, and I know he can’t escape her, and yet still it makes me nervous. There are so many variables.”

“That’s what I have told Reese ad nauseum; that’s why I can’t send Susan away, not until she’s ready.” He nodded out to the garden again, to the place where Reese paced on the slate pavement. “He wants me to bring him over, and I keep telling him that I will as soon as Susan is able to fend for herself and do no harm. I can’t make him understand that I am not capable of giving two fledglings what they would need of me. There are times when I’m not sure I can even care for one as I ought. That is pretty evident, I suppose. But I can’t make Reese understand, in fact I fear that even his desire for me to bring him over is only because he fears losing me to Susan, and how could I bear it if I brought him over and it was not truly what he wanted? We must think this choice through carefully. It can’t be made in a jealous heat, in an act of desperation. He sees it as though I am choosing her over him, and the damned angel’s jealousy only makes matters worse.”

She dropped the bomb, figuring now was as good a time as any, and Alonso would take it better than Michael would, of that she was certain. “I’ve decided to take matters out of your hands. I’m sending her to New York City.”

“What!” He was at her side in what would have seemed like an instant to anyone with human eyes, but Magda’s eyes had been far from human for more centuries than she cared to count. Before he could reach for her, before he could lay distressed hands on her, she stepped aside, and he caught himself with all the dignity, all the grace for which vampires are known, straightened his jacket and took a deep breath she knew he didn’t need. “You can’t take her from me. She’s not ready.”

“I can, and I will. In case you’ve forgotten, Alonso, she’s mine to do with as I see fit. She belongs to the 2015-06-30 11.27.42Consortium now. She came at a very high price, and there’s no overestimating her value, especially now that she’s a vampire who can walk in daylight, now with the Guardian inside her. You may be her maker, but that doesn’t mean you know what’s best for her, and neither does Michael.”

“She’s not ready,” he repeated fervently.

“I know she’s not ready, and I’d never send her out into the world unprepared. You know that. But here is not the place for her training, not under the circumstances. I’ve been in touch with Desiree. She owes me, and she’s agreed to complete Susan’s training in all that pertains to vampires living amongst humans.”

He made a derisive sound in his throat at the mention of Desiree. “For what price?”

She shrugged. “Everything has a price, and it was one I was happy to pay, one that will benefit Susan in the end. I’ve heard rumours of a siren living in New York City.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh I know that the chances of such a glorious creature still existing are very slim at best, but the rumours have been consistent and … well let’s just say I feel that they should be checked out. It won’t be a difficult assignment for Susan, but it will be intriguing and satisfying — that along with what Desiree has in mind for her, should ease her into her new roll with the Consortium while she gets her feet under her as a vampire – so to speak. Here, she’s disruptive, at least at the moment.” She nodded to Reese in the garden. “In New York, she’ll be a benefit to both me and to Desiree, and she’ll learn what she needs to without the twin distractions of you and Michael. She wants you as badly as you want her, Alonso, and you know you’re both just a breath away from doing something you’ll both regret, something from which there’ll be no turning back. She may want you, but she loves Michael, just as you love Reese. She needs to be away from both of you, from all of you for a little while. The feelings you have for each other are a normal part of the sire and fledgling relationship, but that’s assuming that neither is in a pervious relationship or that if they are they’re not monogamous. Between you and Michael and Reese, there’s enough jealous testosterone in this house to make me dizzy. I can’t have that for Susan. I need her focused if she’s to realize her potential, and she’ll never be focused here, at least not without a little space away from both you and Michael. You know this, Alonso. You know it well. It’s only for a couple of months, just long enough for her to come to terms with what she is and what she’s capable of doing. Then she can come back without needing you or Michael. She can come back on equal footing.”

“She has never needed us. She has always stood quite well on her own. If anything we’ve needed her.”

“And yet here you and Michael are, behaving like two stags in rut.”

For a long time they stood next to each other in silence. A light breeze lifted the curtains on the French doors, and Reese now knelt next to one of the stone benches tending to some little detail in the garden – perhaps a stray patch of weed, perhaps a slate chip in the wrong place. At last Alonso spoke. “Have you told them?”

“Not yet. I will in the morning when they return to High View.”

“Does this have anything to do with the Guardian’s use of the angel’s mark on Susan? Are you dark moon image_xl_6338206afraid he might try to take over his body again?”

“It’s a precaution, nothing more,” she said, careful to keep her voice neutral. No one had any idea just how neurotic she was for her people, and what had happened between Michael and the Guardian had thoroughly unnerved her, even more so when she feared she’d have no choice but to take the life of her beloved angel. Everyone else within the Consortium was allowed their neuroses and foibles and public displays of bad behavior – what could one expect from a loose affiliation of monsters, mutants, and renegade gods? It took one to know one, she thought. But they didn’t have to know that, did they? They only had to trust that she had their best interest at heart. And her own, of course.

“When will you take her?” It was the deep sadness in Alonso’s voice that brought her attention back to the present.

“I’ve been on the phone with Desiree, and my pilot is making arrangements. He’ll fly from Manchester on Wednesday. Desiree will meet her at JFK.”

“That’s only three days.” Alonso made no effort to hide the disappointment in his voice. “They won’t be happy.”

“They’ll get over it. The truth is that it’s three days too many. Every day she lingers in this volatile complicated situation, the risk rises of something going terribly wrong. Emotions are running high in a group of very dangerous predators. I will not have the bear kill the lion, nor the tiger kill the eagle. I’ll tell them in the morning and then I’ll be keeping a very close eye on her, on all of you, until she’s safely on board the plane.”

There was another stretch of silence. Reese now sat on the bench looking out over the beck below, unaware that he was being watched by monsters, though Magda figured he’d grown dangerously used to that by now. At last she pulled a long breath and stretched her aching back. “Go to Reese. Make it right. He’s waiting for you. Surely you can see that. I’ve never minded members of the Consortium having relationships, and even I’m enough of a romantic to know that when it’s right, it’s worth preserving. Trust me, in three months, when Susan returns, you and Michael will both see more clearly; Michael will hold her more dearly and you will hold her more loosely, as it should be. In three months all that’s passed between you and him, all the strife between you and Reese, will be seen from the proper perspective that time lends to all things.”

Alonso said no more, nor did he gesture his leave-taking. He simply turned and moved through In The Flesh 2 12006311_1476805985954344_6570546160088833292_nthe French doors. Halfway down the path, his pace slowed to a more human pace, a pace that would not startle Reese. When Reese made no response to his approach, Alonso came to stand behind him and rested his hands on the man’s shoulders before bending to speak in his ear. Whatever it was Alonso said, it had Reese reaching over his shoulder to pull the vampire into a kiss. Magda realized she was smiling. God, would she never outgrow the romantic streak that softened her heart ever so slightly? But then it was good to see such devotion, good to cultivate it in others whenever she could. She had long known that was as close to the high walls around her heart as love would ever get. None of them had any idea how tenuous the thread that tethered her to humanity was at times, and a little romance in the Consortium helped her strengthen that bond. They all feared her, as well they should. But she knew as none of them would ever know, that she was by far the most dangerous of all of them, the most dead, in many ways, and what she had built, what she had created, her Consortium of wayward monsters had been the family she’d never had. They did what she wanted. She was the tyrant who ruled them, and yet their happiness was not something she could be jealous of when it was one of the few things that touched her heart. She would have Reese and Alonso happy. And in time, Alonso would bring Reese over, but not because Reese felt threatened by Alonso’s attention to another. In time, Michael and Susan would be together. Oh not in Michael’s little house. She had other plans for them, plans that demanded they be together. Her plans were always way more wide-reaching and far-viewing than any of them knew. That was how she had kept herself safe all of these centuries. That was how she made sure no one could take what belonged to her. But, where Michael and Susan were concerned, well she hardly had to force the love of eternity, did she? All she had to do was cultivate the right circumstances, the right conditions. That’s all she ever had to do, actually. And it had never been that difficult with her intuition and the fact that she was the scariest bitch any of her monsters had ever dealt with.

In the meantime, there might just possibly be a siren seducing the Big Apple with magical songs. Now that would definitely keep Susan occupied for a couple of months. She turned to the credenza and poured herself a glass of Glen Morangie, which Alonso kept on hand especially for her. She drank it back and poured another. Soon Susan would learn, as they all had, that – for good or ill — time was irrelevant in the gaping jaws of eternity and it was the monsters with which one surrounded oneself that staved off the emptiness and made that dark endless throat of time a little more bearable.

“To the Consortium.” She raised her glass in salute, watching Alonso and Reese, side by side on the bench, heads together, no doubt talking quietly which, knowing them as she did, was, no doubt, foreplay for a night of passion. “To the Consortium.” She said again, then she drank back the whisky and turned to go home.


The End?


Susan and Michael’s story continues, along with the rest of Magda’s Consortium in

Book 2 of the Medusa Chronicles


2015-07-19 20.19.25In New York City away from those she loves, living with the enigmatic vampire, Desiree Fielding, Susan Innes struggles to come to terms with life as a vampire whose body serves as the prison for a powerful demon. When prophetic dreams of blood in the snow and three men in a deep cavern become harrowing nightmares, Susan begins to question her sanity until Reese Chambers arrives from England, desperate for her help. Alonso Darlington, his lover and her maker, has been taken captive and Reese has been warned to tell no one, but Susan, who he is to bring back with him. They’ve barely returned to the British Isles before Susan receives her own message from a man calling himself only Cyrus. He not only holds her maker prisoner, but also her lover, the angel Michael, and if she wishes to see either of them alive, she’ll come to him and not tell Magda Gardener, the woman they all work for and fear. With no help coming from Magda, she and Reese must turn to the Guardian – the terrifying demon now imprisoned in her body. He alone can help them, but how can she possibly trust him after all he’s done?

© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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