I had the absolute strangest dream last night. I was wearing a white negligee in a very sterile, very cold kitchen. The floor was made of marble and there was no color besides the grays, blacks and white of the tile. I was leaning back on my elbows against a wooden butcher's block island in the middle of the kitchen, my bare feet chilly against the frigid floor. My breasts were obscenely pressed skywards as I waited, patiently.
It was then that he appeared. Dark and handsome, but without a face that I could make out or specifically tie to anyone I know in real life. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye as he sauntered towards me, trying to hide my excitement. He produced a small case from one of his pockets, kneeled on the ground and lifted my foot towards him. He planted a small kiss on the top of it and then proceeded to remove a razor from the case and cut the sole of my foot. I don't remember feeling that initial sting, like I would have in real life, but I remember that almost immediately the blood began to drip musically on the marble floor.
My eyes were rolled back in my head as he continued. After cutting the sole of my other foot, he moved up the backs of both of my legs as if cutting the backseam on a pair of pantyhose. Blood pooled on the floor underneath me as I writhed my hips to try to come into more physical contact with the man avoiding all but the more delicate touches of his hand. He was focused. There were cuts on my inner thighs, my hip bones, my stomach, my breasts, my lips... and all I wanted was to feel the kiss of the razor against my skin one more time.
I was beginning to feel weak and woozy from the bloodloss when he began to step out of his clothes, careful not to get any blood onto the impeccable and obviously expensive suit he was wearing. He reached for a shelf under the butcher's block and produced two pints of blood. I had a memory, in my dream, that we had bled me many times before in preparation. He hung the bags onto tiny metal hooks from the ceiling and started one as an IV in my arm.
Licking the blood from the sole of my food to my mouth, he was anything but gentle as he began kissing me passionately. My lips began to sting a bit then, and I could feel his cock against my inner thighs as he lubricated himself with my blood and rammed himself into me. With one hand he held me up, with the other he held onto the island so he could rut me. I couldn't scream or moan because I was so weak, and my eyes couldn't fix on his. I remember feeling sublimely happy listening to the tap-tap-tap of my blood dripping on the floor.
Then I woke up. I have strange dreams sometimes. *laugh*
It was then that he appeared. Dark and handsome, but without a face that I could make out or specifically tie to anyone I know in real life. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye as he sauntered towards me, trying to hide my excitement. He produced a small case from one of his pockets, kneeled on the ground and lifted my foot towards him. He planted a small kiss on the top of it and then proceeded to remove a razor from the case and cut the sole of my foot. I don't remember feeling that initial sting, like I would have in real life, but I remember that almost immediately the blood began to drip musically on the marble floor.
My eyes were rolled back in my head as he continued. After cutting the sole of my other foot, he moved up the backs of both of my legs as if cutting the backseam on a pair of pantyhose. Blood pooled on the floor underneath me as I writhed my hips to try to come into more physical contact with the man avoiding all but the more delicate touches of his hand. He was focused. There were cuts on my inner thighs, my hip bones, my stomach, my breasts, my lips... and all I wanted was to feel the kiss of the razor against my skin one more time.
I was beginning to feel weak and woozy from the bloodloss when he began to step out of his clothes, careful not to get any blood onto the impeccable and obviously expensive suit he was wearing. He reached for a shelf under the butcher's block and produced two pints of blood. I had a memory, in my dream, that we had bled me many times before in preparation. He hung the bags onto tiny metal hooks from the ceiling and started one as an IV in my arm.
Licking the blood from the sole of my food to my mouth, he was anything but gentle as he began kissing me passionately. My lips began to sting a bit then, and I could feel his cock against my inner thighs as he lubricated himself with my blood and rammed himself into me. With one hand he held me up, with the other he held onto the island so he could rut me. I couldn't scream or moan because I was so weak, and my eyes couldn't fix on his. I remember feeling sublimely happy listening to the tap-tap-tap of my blood dripping on the floor.
Then I woke up. I have strange dreams sometimes. *laugh*
This entry was posted by Mellie, on
Friday, September 22, 2006.
