The Dream

by Marx

3 Mar 2018 2332 readers Score 7.5 (20 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


Ever since moving here, night hasn’t been my best friend.  I lie in bed with my eyes open, staring at a figure that sits at the foot of my bed with glowing red eyes and the smell of cigars flowing off his breath.  He’s dressed in a shirt and tie I believe. I know it’s a suit, I just can’t tell what kind. He smiles at me. I can’t really make out that he’s smiling, I know he’s smiling.

“Foolish white boys, with their foolish games,” he says as he sits there. He takes another puff of his cigar, props his feet up on my bed, and lets out a sigh as if he’s bored with me. He’s never bored of me. In fact, he does this every night. And I know it’s a he because his husky voice is indistinguishable to anyone else’s.

“First, you take over my domain…make it ‘pretty’ for your plastic families…kicking mine to the gutter,” he begins as he waves around his cigar “, and then you open my family’s book…start messing around with things you couldn’t possibly understand for shits and giggles.” He leans in towards me. I’m frozen in fear. Actually, I can’t feel a thing…I can never feel anything. But I’m afraid and he smiles at me and blows the sweetest smelling cigar smoke at me.

“Not to mention, you burned my favorite hat in the process…” he says leaning over my face. My lips are close to brushing his. His body is hovering over me. And now I’m afraid of what he might do. He brushes a finger against my face. At first, I don’t feel a thing, but suddenly it feels as though my face is being seared off with a soldering iron. I don’t scream. I can’t scream. Nothing will come out and he laughs. It’s funny to him. His laugh is both intoxicating and terrifying. He slaps me on the face. Again, I feel another wave of searing pain washes over me. My breathing is heavy. My heart pounds. But I don’t scream. I can’t scream. He won’t let me scream.

“Nothing, just like always…it’s almost as if you enjoy this,” he says while sliding his finger down my bare chest. It burns. It’s intense. It fucking burns. And I fucking love every moment of it. I don’t know why. I just do. I want it more. He makes me want it more. I know he wants me to beg for it. Tears roll down my face. It’s the only reaction my body makes.

 And then I hear him laugh. He wants more, I know it. I can feel it.  He licks the tears off my cheeks. It’s hotter than his fingers and it felt like my cheeks were being melted away. But I know they weren’t. He doesn’t want to scar me for life. He wants to play with me like this forever.  And as more tears roll down my face he licks his fingers and slides them down my chest and stomach.  I gasp. My breath leaves my body for a moment. He laughs in that fucking husky voice. I want more, but I can’t speak. Speaking isn’t allowed.  He slides his fingers down to my waist and plays with my waistband.  I’m afraid of what’s about to happen. But I want him to do it.

He pushes his body up against me and forces my legs apart. I’m embarrassed. I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. But he doesn’t care. No. He likes me this way.  He continues to laugh with one hand gripping my Navy sweatpants waistband and the other puffing on a cigar. He leans in blowing smoke in my face, choking me with its sweet aroma.

“You know what happens next right?” he asks.  I fucking hate that he asks. He fucking knows I know. So why does he ask? He’s fucking playing with my head. I can’t get him out of it, he won’t fucking leave. He’ll never leave. Why won’t he leave?  And then suddenly, he yanks on my pants and they’re ripped off of me and engulfed in flames. The ashes dance around me, taunting me. And I lie there. Stark ass naked for him to play with me some more with my legs spread apart. He forces my legs up over his shoulders and he takes another puff out his cigar. 

The ambers never go out. His cigar never burns out. He just keeps smoking at it. He brings it up to my face as if to offer it to me. I say nothing. I can’t speak. I can’t protest or accept. He lets out a sigh and forces his cigar in my mouth.  I inhale, it’s the only thing I can do.  My head feels funny. The room feels like it’s spinning. Things start to go dark. Suddenly a fist pounds my chest repeatedly. It’s fucking hot and terrifying. I exhale and breathe heavily.

“White boy, you’re supposed to exhale not hold the bitch in,” he says puffing another cloud of smoke. He puts the cigar down beside me and licks his fingers again. He moves his fingers down my happy trail and to my waist. I’m used to the searing pain now. But as if he realized this he licks his fingers again and grabs my cock.

 I start to cry. He squeezes my cock. I cry more. He yanks it up and down. I gasp. My cock grows harder with each stroke. It’s painful. The skin feels like it's being burned off and it fucking feels amazing. The pain. I feel alive with each stroke. He started slow, now he was moving faster. His strokes matched my heartbeat.  I gasped. I cried. But I couldn’t scream.  I couldn’t pull away.  And before I could finish, before I could fucking cum, he lets go. He doesn’t finish. I hate him for it.

“I’m sorry, did you want me to finish,” he begins with smugness in his voice “, all you have to do is tell me and I’ll let you finish, okay?” I can’t respond. He laughs and starts squeezing my cock again. He switches from long strokes to short ones. Some of his strokes are intense and some are soft, but all of it was painful. He continued this until again I was at the height of cumming and suddenly he stopped. It feels like I’m dying. And he does this repeatedly over and over again. He lets go of my cock again and I breathe heavily.

“It seems as though you want to keep this up,” he begins as if to pity me “,sadly, I’m pressed for time.” He picks up his cigar and takes another puff of it. I’m afraid of what he has planned.  This part always has me afraid…worse than everything else.  He sucks on his index finger. I can see what looks like sparks dance of his finger.

“Don’t worry, you’ll love this,” he says as he shoves his finger inside my ass. I could feel a scream shape inside my throat. I could feel flames burning my insides as he forced his whole finger inside. He then grabbed my cock and started stroking again. My eyes grew wide as I had both pleasure and intense pain fighting for my attention. He then forced another finger inside. The scream inside my throat kept building up. He hit my spot. No one has ever touched me there. Only him.  He rubs up against it. I feel as though I’m being set on fire and stroked in two separate spots.  And then I looked into his eyes.  Something told me to prepare for the worse, but I didn’t have enough time. 

“Hey white boy,” he whispers in my ear “, I want you to scream for me.”  And before I could think. Before I could get my mind straight he pulled his fingers out and started to shove and twist his burning cigar into my hole. The scream wouldn’t come out, my legs jerked and kicked.  I had no more tears to cry as he hit my spot with the burning end of his cigar. He kept stroking. I thought I wanted it. He made me want it.  It was too much. Way too fucking much and I let out an ear piercing screaming as I came. I thought it was over, but no he kept going and going. He wouldn’t stop playing with my ass; he wouldn’t stop jerking me off. He kept going. And every time I came it was worse than the last. He kept going even when nothing was coming out. And then after the tenth time reaching my peak, he let me go. He pulled the cigar out and shoved my legs down.

“That was fun, but it looks like time is up,” he said pointing to the window. I looked up and saw the sun rising. I was glad that it was rising. He then slapped my chest and then I gasped again.  He laughed and got up from the bed. He was satisfied. I was satisfied.

He says something to me, but I don’t hear it. I’m afraid to hear it.  I stare up at the ceiling. He leaves my room and I can hear him go down the stairs and out the house. I close my eyes and suddenly I hear an alarm. I open my eyes and turn my head to see 5:30 flash on the LED screen. I look down to see that my pants are still on.  I’m covered in sweat.  I can smell smoke. And my skin feels hot.  I get up from the bed and walk over to my mirror. I’m afraid of what I might see. But all I can see is me. I’m actually happy to see me. My phone rings. I walk over to it. I don’t know why, but I’m afraid.  I’m afraid to answer it, but I hit the accept button.

“Hello?” I say hesitantly.

“Yo, Mike...I finally got you,” Lukas says. I’m glad that it’s him. I let out a sigh.

“Huh?” I replied groggily to Lukas. I hear a lot of loud movement in the background.

“Where were you,” Lukas begins”, we were worried about all the shit that was going down in the neighborhood that something might have happened to you.”  I look around the room for my glasses while still on the line.

“Wait, what happened?” I ask still looking for my glasses. I hear more loud movement in the background followed by a man yelling.

“A riot or something…We don’t know…All we know was, most of the neighborhood was on fire,” Lukas said. I could make bits and pieces being made in the background.  Someone was yelling about monsters. Another about someone breathing fire.  The mention of fire puts a chill down my spine.

by Marx

Email: [email protected]

Copyright 2024