Chapter 1: Dream a Little Dream
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Mind Control, Heterosexual, Fiction, DomSub, MaleDom, Light Bond, Group Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Doctor/Nurse, Workplace, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1: Dream a Little Dream - Sandra's suggestion that I spend time with Maryann, pays off. Dreams occasionally come true!
Dead asleep, I soon became aware that I was dreaming. Dreaming was common, being aware of the fact was not. Intrigued, I allegorically "sat back" to see where this dream was heading.
From what I have read, we dream and, so doing, organize our recollections of the events of the day. It seemed that I was doing so tonight, as I recalled watching Maryann move through her part of our day. I recalled admiring her derriere, and bathing in the sunshine of her smile. She was cute, glowing with the beauty of a woman of 20 or 22 years, not the thirty the calendar had graced her with.
I wondered if I could skew the narrative of my dream. I "thought" I could nudge Maryann a bit, as if I were to plant inside her mind the suggestion that she might smile at me for a moment longer than was proper. Surprisingly, "Dream Maryann" did just that, and it was as if the interaction opened a window into her heart. Her steady gaze appeared to be that of a lover, not colleague, and she drew her lower lip inward, lowering her gaze but not her eyes. The entire effect was of a woman, innocent and tempting, both naïve and self aware of the effect she had upon vulnerable men. Such as me.
This was encouraging. I wondered if she would skip wearing a bra tomorrow. Her dream self spoke not, instead responding with a teasing slight grin. She rocked back and forth, as if to wag her head "No," but her hand crept to twirl a lock of hair.
I grinned back in my imagination, and internally figured that I would see if this lucid dreaming business had anything to it. I repeated my "suggestion" that she not wear a bra to work tomorrow, and she again performed the flirtatious young girl dance. Unwilling to push overly far, I again "sat back", and decided that I would watch the rest of the dream unfold. Right around then was when I was awakened when the dog decided that the cat was breathing too much of her air, and needed to be chased, squalling, from the bedroom.
Separating the warring pets, I returned to bed and, settling in, returned to sleep. I did not recall any further dreaming once I awakened for work the next day.
Waiting for the coffee to perk (And, I can tell you, from extensive steely eyed observation, that staring at the coffeepot does in no way speed up the production of coffee!), my mind wandered. I recalled the dream "conversation" with Maryann, and wondered if she thought that it had happened, as well. How would she react? Would she simply wonder why she would dream about an older guy admiring her, or might she in fact be susceptible to my attentions? If she were receptive, how might she demonstrate this? Contemplating her potential braless state today at work, and where that might lead, started to produce an erection. Maryann was petite, and curvy. Her dark hair framed a face with elvin features, dark eyes, ever present smile, clear glowing skin, and a demeanor of one who was waiting to see if you could identify the little trick that she had played upon you.
After several moments of reverie, the ending of the wheezing of the coffeemaker shook me back to the present, and I made my coffee, and got organized for my day.
Once at work, I tried to surreptitiously gauge her wardrobe choices. No perky nipples showed themselves, and I could see no bra strap shadow through the tee shirt she wore beneath her scrubs.
Working in a clinic, you occasionally encounter someone who appears to be gunning for that Darwin Award. One such soul appeared, Darwinian in choice of friends (dolts), even if you discount the genius involved in letting your diabetes run you over. The Lead Dolt burst into our lobby, and announced that Our Hero had "done fell out", and that we needed to Do Something. As this clever assessment was being shared, Thing One and Thing Two were manhandling Our Hero from the vehicle and into our lobby, as well, there to dump him upon the floor with a thud.
Our poor receptionist issued a call to action, and we meandered into the lobby. Once there, Sandra directed the receptionist to call Our Friends At The Fire Department, to elicit an ambulance. The rest of us hoisted Our Hero onto a stretcher, and trundled him into our procedure room.
Maryann got vitals (He was breathing! Score!), and Karen started an IV. I figured that too much of a good thing was just about enough, and stepped behind Maryann to get another IV setup. I steadied her (and myself) by placing my hand in the middle of her back (right about the level of her bra strap, as it happened), and noted in passing that there was no bra strap there. I extricated myself from the supply cart corner, and took Our Hero's other arm, starting a second IV. About that time Sandra announced that the blood sugar meter was reading "HIGH!" (yes, it shouts just like that. That's when you know this soul's sugar Is Really High!) (No, not really. That simply tells you it is north of 600. Normally, it hovers around 100. Not good. When it is higher than 600, and you are inert, you are, however, really, really sick.)
We poured in the IV fluids, and started charting. Sandra got on the phone with The Big City Big Time Hospital Trauma Center And Emergency Department (I will never know how they fit all that onto their letterhead!), and gave report. Our Friends At The Fire Department arrived, started their own brand of Pre Hospital Magic, and whisked Our Hero off to the ER. We exhaled. Curiously, once we went to the lobby to talk with The Lead Dolt, Thing One and Thing Two, they had disappeared, as if supernatural forces had intervened.
We scattered, Sandra to chart, Maryann to restock, Karen and I to start to work our way through the patients already present when the drama had started.
A couple of hours later, things had slowed enough for us to start taking our lunches. Maryann and I happened to be first. I was just digging in to my reheated left overs, when Maryann breezed in to the lunch room. As her food heated, she sat next to me. She looked at me for a long moment, and, just as I was about to ask her what I had stuck in my teeth, she spoke.
"Bob, do you ever remember your dreams?"
"I had this dream the other night, and it was kind of unusual."
"Well, you were in it, for one thing. The other is, we were sort of talking."
"Oh? Talking about what?"
"Well, you wanted me to hold your gaze. I got sort of tingly when our eyes met, and then you told me you didn't want me to wear a bra today. I don't do that, but with you telling me to, it seemed like that would make it OK." She paused. "You know, I have talked with Sandra."
"And what did she tell you?"
"She has had those same kind of dreams, and they included you. You made her do things, she told me."
"'Made' her? What do you mean? How? And, what sort of 'things'?"
"You told her to not wear a bra, and you told her to do things, and she did them! When you told her, in her dream, she couldn't not do it!"
I regarded her for a moment. Maryann was flushed, and breathing more rapidly than the dinging of the "microwave finished" alarm would account for. I asked her, again. "What sort of things? Do you mean to tell me that, telling her, as you term it, in some sort of dream, compels her to perform as I direct? How is it that I can intrude on a woman's dreams, and direct her to do things?"
She paused, and then, drew closer to me. If I could be shouted at, in a whisper, this was the time. "I-DON'T-KNOW! Sandra doesn't know! She told me, this morning, how these dreams made her dress inappropriately, and made her listen to your directions! You made her ride around in your truck, NAKED! You ... you ... tied her up! How did you do that?"
She settled back a bit, and looked at me as if seeing me for the first time in a new light.
"I never leave the house without a bra. I never go to work without a bra. Last night, I dreamed that you told me to leave my bra at home, and I just did it. Now, I cannot stop thinking about how daring it is, how naughty it is. It is like I've been buzzing all day. Now, now you know that you can control me that way. What are you going to do to me next?"
I met her eyes, and kept eye contact. "I did not do anything, did I? Everybody knows that nobody can simply wander into your dreams, give you directions, and leave you no choice but to comply. Right?"
She worked her mouth, but no words came out. I continued. "I cannot tell you what will be next, since it is obvious that you want to do this sort of thing, and you are using me as an excuse. I am happy to provide that excuse, but, you do realize, you sound like a crazy woman, right?"
She gaped at me. I couldn't resist, and added, "But, I really like this look on you. It is really flattering!" I made a point of staring at her breasts, where her nipples were, finally, plainly evident. I turned to my lunch, and let her stew.
Eventually our shift ended, and we all went home. Good thing, too, because poor Maryann had developed a bit of a posture problem, slouching as if to camouflage her breasts. This was highlighted by occasional daggers glared my way.
My departure was slowed as Maryann approached me in the parking lot. We made small talk for a moment, waving farewell to Sandra as she wheeled home. The lot safely clear, Maryann turned to me.
"I could hardly concentrate at work today! I was tingling all day long! You Rat! I don't know if it is more exciting that I'm partially undressed in public, or that you can make me do things."
I turned it back onto her. "What did Sandra tell you she experienced? What was the most scary part for her, or the best part?"
Maryann paused. "Are you still seeing her? You guys still doing things together?"
"She's seeing Tim, and it sounds like they are getting kind of serious, right? I'd have to be some special kind of prick to interfere with that, right?"
"But, you did not say you weren't still seeing her, did you? Ohmighawd! You ARE still seeing her, aren't you?"
I grinned. "Did not say that, did I? Pay attention: I also did not say that I had ever SEEN her, right? If I had done anything with her, I will not say. If I haven't done anything with her, then there is nothing to speak of, is there?"
"So, you and Sandy never did anything together? Sandy says you two were quite the item! She tells me you did all sorts of wicked things to her! You're confusing me."
"I did not say, one way or the other. As regards what Sandy says, well, she is free to tell her stories in the manner that she wishes. I will not tell tales on her, either way. What I will tell you, is that you might consider listening to Sandra's stories, considering what they may tell you about what an encounter with me might be like, and then decide if you are interested or not. Sandra's stories may be fact, they may be fiction, but you may find a basis for a decision in them. Or not. If the thought that I may somehow magically be able to control you is exciting to think about, you might want to try the real thing for yourself."
"I don't know. I've never done anything like that with any man, before. How do I know you won't do something disgusting with me? How do I tell you to stop, if I am helpless some way, with you?"
"Well, talking to Sandy will give you some food for thought. It may all be bullshit, but you might learn something about yourself and what you are looking for, from her stories. Ask her how, in her thought experiments with submission, she established limits, and managed to tell her partner that it was time to quit, if she even felt the need to tell him so."
"But, what about the 'doing something disgusting' part? How do I know you won't embarrass me?"
"What are you afraid of? You seem to have something in your mind. What are you concerned about?"
"Well, there is ... I mean ... well..." Maryann lowered her eyes, took a deep breath, and continued, not meeting my gaze. "I had one boyfriend who wanted to do me in my butt. That's so wrong! That's where I shit! I can't do that!" Another deep breath. Raising her eyes, meeting mine, "You wouldn't want to do that, would you?"
"Absolutely! I both would want to do so, and would do so. Whether we get there, has a lot to do with whether you really want the excitement and tingle that you started to experience today. Once again, spend some time with Sandra, ask her what her experiences were, and would she do them again. They may be real life experiences, or they may be imaginings. Either way, her thoughts may give you some basis for decision."
Maryann waited a moment. "Sandra seems to think you are a great guy, and says that you showed her a great time. She seemed to skip over some of the ways that you showed it to her, though. Maybe I need to take her out for lunch some time!"
She favored me with a calculating look. "You know, you are an evil, conniving man. I can tell, from the way you look at me, that you want into my pants. But, you are too subtle to come right out and hit on me. No, you let Sandra do your selling for you. You have a very satisfied customer, making your pitch for you, and also get plausible deniability."
I started to sputter, but she did not let me speak. "Don't you try to deny it! I see through your 'You know, you sound like a crazy woman' bullshit. I don't know how you did it, Sandy cannot tell me how you did it, but you can get into our dreams, and whatever you tell us to do in that dream, becomes alright to do. Well, mister! I just want you to know, I really want that tingle! I want you to dominate me. I want to know how it can be, with a grown ass man, who knows what he wants, leading me to where I want to go! We are not finished, you and I!"
That worked for me, and I told her so. "You know where to find me, and I'll chat with you later, in our dreams. You might want to consider what you think you might be ready for, as your next step. Ask Sandra, she may tell you I can be demanding, and can lead you places you may not think, at first, you want to go."
Maryann held my gaze for a moment, and turned to go. Over her shoulder, she responded, "Oh, yes! Sandra and I will talk, in depth!"
I watched her get into her car, and drive away. The next several months might prove entertaining, on many levels!