Dreams

Rhea crawled into her bed after a long night of dancing at Club Yulo.  It really wasn’t her scene, but it was her friend’s birthday and that friend had insisted.  Rhea hadn’t dressed all that provocatively, but she had received an abundance of male attention all the same.  Her D-cup breasts were a lure no matter what she wore, as was her silky-smooth and perfectly-tanned skin.  Even when she dressed conservatively, she liked to show off her athletic physique – her toned arms and legs, and the stomach that didn’t make her look scrawny but didn’t have an ounce of excess weight on it.  Her close male friends told her that she had a soft and inviting look that was incredibly appealing.

Rhea was used to warding off undue male advances, but she wasn’t as cautious about other women.  When a tall brunette standing next to her at the bar waiting for a drink told her that her neck looked tight and offered a quick massage, Rhea gladly accepted.  The neck rub felt great until something sharp on the brunette’s ring jabbed into the back of Rhea’s neck.  It was more surprising than it was painful, but it was hard to get the embarrassed brunette to stop apologizing for it.  When her drink came, Rhea was all too happy to just leave the situation behind and get back to her friends.

The next morning, Rhea sat up in her bed as the sun started to stream in through her windows.  She rubbed her temples, trying to clear her head from the bizarre dream she had just woken up from.  “Where on Earth did that come from?” she wondered.  Her memories of the dream were a little hazy, but she clearly remembered being locked in a tiny, dimly-lit room that would have been barely large enough for her to lie down in.  There had been a voice commanding her to do things. Actually, it was more like the voice was training her to do things, such as kneel and stand at attention. The voice had repeated those two commands over and over again.  And if she didn’t quickly get herself into just the right position, then she’d get some kind of electric shock that would encourage her to try even harder. 

Rhea also remembered that she had been completely naked throughout the dream.  The positions she had to get in served to highlight her nudity.  When at “Attention,” her big boobs had to be thrust out and up as far as she could push them, and when told to “Kneel,” her bare ass had to be pushed upwards while she pressed her face into the floor.  Rhea wondered why the hell her brain had put her through that for what seemed like hours last night.

But a dream is just a dream, and Rhea shook it off and forgot about it until she had a repeat of the same dream a week later.  She sure hoped it would go away after that, but quite the opposite, it became more frequent.  She started visiting that stupid little room in her dreams two or three times a week.  And the dreams started to get more detailed.  Her third time, she remembered wearing thigh-high latex boots that had 5-inch heels and kept her painfully up on her toes.  She continued to wear those boots in every dream from then on.  The next week, in addition to the boots, she was also wearing some kind of latex sheath that trapped her arms behind her back, squeezing her hands, forearms, and elbows tightly together.  She remembered it being extremely uncomfortable, and was she imagining it, or when she woke up did her shoulders feel a little bit sore, just as they had in the dream?

The carryover of the soreness from her dreams to reality finally convinced Rhea that she needed to talk with someone about it all.  She was pretty embarrassed about the whole situation, and really didn’t want to have to admit to one of her friends that some stupid dreams were starting to bother her, so she made an appointment with a sleep doctor instead.  She explained everything to the doc and asked if she was going crazy.  The doctor told her that she didn’t need to worry, that strings of dreams like this were common, and that they would fade and go away eventually.  Because she was so insistent, the doctor also gave Rhea some pills to help her sleep better.

The dreams just kept coming, sleeping pills or no.  In them, the boots and armbinder were joined by a tight latex corset that held her big boobs up high and made deep breaths impossible, and then by a gag made out of a rubber ball that forced her mouth wide open.  Each dream always started the same: on her knees in the tiny room, face pressed to the floor where she would have to stay until she was told to move, if she wanted to avoid a punishing shock.  Then the voice would command her to form various positions.  “Attention” and “Kneel” were always repeated, and over time the list grew: “Spread” meant standing with her feet almost touching the opposite walls of the small room and bending over so that her chest was parallel to the ground; “milkshake” meant bouncing her big udders rapidly back and forth; “blow” meant kneeling upright with her back arched and her knees spread to just the right angle.  The voice also began to command her to march in place, requiring her knees to be lifted to just the right height with every step if she wanted to avoid punishment.

The dreams were starting to come more often than not.  It was humiliating to wake up morning after morning, knowing that she had spent the night in her head acting out some bizarre sexual fantasy.  After a month, Rhea was worried that she’d really go crazy if she didn’t confide in anyone, so decided to call up her friend Luissa.   To Rhea’s dismay, Luissa couldn’t stop chuckling as Rhea described the repeat dreams.  “My dear,” Luissa teased, “you’re training yourself to be a ponygirl in your sleep!  Oh, you don’t even know what that is?  You should look it up!”

Rhea was pissed at her friend for laughing, and slammed the phone down.  But she did take the advice of looking up ‘ponygirl’ online, and was horrified by the images she found.  “How on earth did I start dreaming about this??”  She noticed the butt plugs and nipple clamps sported by many of the women in the pictures, and quickly closed her browser, not wanting to give her subconscious any more ammunition to use against her in her sleep.  But she fixated on butt plugs for the rest of the day, thinking about how awful it would be to have something inserted into her ass.  That hole was always way off limits for her for anything but shitting.  She had never considered it even remotely sexual and had no interest whatsoever in ever experimenting with it.  But how could she stop her subconscious from experimenting?

In Rhea’s dream that very night, she was kept in the kneeling position with her face pressed against the floor.  She felt something hard pressing against her rear hole.  She was horrified, but by that point she had been trained well not to turn her head to look, or move at all, for fear of the punishment that would instantly come.  So she had held her position obediently as the butt plug took its time teasing the outside of her hole.  She remembered the feeling of dread as she knelt there in her dream, knowing that the plug was going to push itself into her ass, and knowing that there was nothing she could do to stop it.  She had tried desperately to make herself wake up, but she had tried that before, and it had never worked.  And so, ever so slowly, the plug had slid its way into her ass, stretching her poor virgin sphincter beyond what she thought she could take without ripping, then popping into place and staying there for the rest of the dream.  She was constantly aware of it as she was led through her poses and marching exercises – she felt the stretching of her hole, the movement of the long shaft poking into her bowels, and the tickling of the horse-hair tail that must have been extending out from the plug, just as she had seen in those pictures.  She also remembered feeling just a little bit turned on, and that was what humiliated her the most as she recalled the dream in the morning.

Rhea called up Luissa to curse her friend for recommending that she look up those images, but before she got a word in, Luissa was screaming at her because she had started having the same dreams!  Rhea knew it was mean, but was pissed off herself, so laughed heartily at her friend, who promptly hung up on her.  The two friends didn’t talk again for a number of weeks.

Rhea’s dreams just kept getting worse and worse, and were coming virtually every night.  The butt plug was always present, whether it was pushed into her near the beginning of the dream, or already up her ass when the dream started.  In addition to the plug and all the other gear, she started wearing tight nipple clamps, a tall posture collar and blinders.  She mastered the art of marching in place wearing the boots and all the other gear, and was also taught to trot and prance in place.  She responded instantly to commands of kneel, spread, milkshake, and on and on.  She was so used to responding to those commands in her dreams, that she started worrying about the affect it was having on her real life.  Someone near her at work said the word “kneel” in casual conversation, and she just barely caught herself from dropping to her knees right there in the office.  If the word had been said as a command, she wondered if she would have been able to catch herself.

At that point she went to see another sleep doctor, but he just tried to convince her that she was acting out repressed sexual fantasies in her dreams, and that perhaps she should try some of those fantasies in real life.  He winked at her as he said that, and she ran out of his office.

After two months of spending her sleeping hours locked in a tiny room, Rhea’s dreams started taking her to some kind of basement track.  The first time she was there, she remembered starting off kneeling as always, and noticing that the floor was different.  That was all she could see until she was commanded to stand.  As she stood, she could feel that there was something attached to her corset – a weight that she had to lift as she got up.  She could also sense that there was someone standing next to her, but she couldn’t see the person because of her blinders, and she was too well trained at that point to turn her head to look.  A voice had boomed in the underground track, stating that the commands for marching, trotting, and prancing in place were to be exchanged for marching, trotting, and prancing forwards.  The voice then commanded a forward march.  Rhea could tell that she was pulling whatever it was that was attached to her corset, probably alongside whoever was next to her. 

As Rhea thought about her first track dream the following morning, she had to wonder where the hell her mind was coming up with everything, why it had suddenly shifted settings, and why it couldn’t have shifted away from some of the horrible gear in the process!  She would have been quite happy to get rid of the butt plug, which was even more irritating as she walked around and around the track than when she had been walking in place.  She also wondered who the person next to her was supposed to be.  Her dreams kept bringing her back to that track, night after night, but she was never able to see who was next to her or whether she was pulling anyone on the cart or whatever it was that was attached to her.

On a Saturday morning, one week into the track dreams, she got a call from Luissa.  Rhea expected an apology, but instead was shocked to hear that Luissa had started having the same dreams in the underground track, and had snuck a peak and thought that she had seen Rhea next to her…

…Rhea woke up in her bed, grabbing her watch to confirm that it was 8AM on Sunday morning.  As usual, the first thing she thought about was the ponygirl dream from the night before: yet another session on the track, forced to trot and prance endlessly around in circles.  Then she thought about the day before, and tried to remember what she had done.  She remembered having that conversation with Luissa, finding out that her friend had had the same dream.  But how had they ended the conversation?  And what had she done with the rest of the day?  She couldn’t remember anything, and wondered if she had just fallen back asleep and slept the whole day and night.  Were these stupid ponygirl dreams exhausting her so much that she needed all that extra sleep?

Rhea went about her day, trying to get all the things done that she had intended to get done the day before.  At the end of the day, she was still baffled by how she could have slept through the whole day before.  She thought again about the call from Luissa the day before and how Luissa had said she thought she had seen her...  and then Rhea remembered more about her own latest dream, which somehow seemed foggier in her head than usual.  She remembered that in the dream she had thought about the call with Luissa, and how Luissa had been on the track and glanced over, and so in her dream Rhea had taken her own glance.  The memory of that part of the dream was especially foggy, but she definitely remembered taking a glance at her ponygirl partner.  She hadn’t seen her face, but before she received the shock that made her look straight ahead again, she remembered seeing her partner’s pale fair skin, thin athletic build, and golden blonde curls that definitely could all have belonged to Luissa.

Rhea decided she’d better call Luissa back and try to figure out what the hell was going on.  But her friend was furious at her for calling, screaming that it was all her fault…

…Rhea woke up in her bed.  Just like the day before, she grabbed her watch to confirm the day and time: 7AM Monday morning.  She groaned, for losing another day and because she was sore all over.  She remembered her dream from the night before all too well.  She had been dressed up in all her standard pony gear, but also had her ankles strapped tightly in a spread position, her hair pulled painfully above her head, and her bound arms pulled up behind her.  Something that looked like an electric cattle prod was waved in front of her face, then the booming voice admonished her for disobeying and looking around where she was not supposed to look.  The prod was pressed onto her right ass cheek, the voice had said “only look where you are told to look,” and a searing electric shock had hit her ass.  The prod was poked into her left ass cheek, the admonition was repeated, and she was given another shock.  This had gone on for what she remembered thinking was hours and hours.  Every part of her body had been ruthlessly shocked – tits, thighs, pussy, throat, armpits.  She had been told again and again to keep her eyes forward at all times, to not try to look at her rider or her fellow pony, and never to try to contact her fellow pony.

Rhea lay in her bed.  That dream had been horrible, and for a second morning in a row she had apparently slept away the entire day.  Why was her subconscious doing this to her??  She thought about calling Luissa again, but if she did that, would her subconscious just decide that she needed to be punished again the next time she went to sleep?  She thought about going back to the sleep doctor, but worried that that too might trigger another one of those punishment dreams, which she really wanted to avoid at all costs.  She decided that if she just didn’t talk to anyone, then she would convince her subconscious that she was a good girl, and she wouldn’t have the dream again. 

Rhea spent a miserable day at work.  The punishment dream from the night before hadn’t left any visible marks, but it had left her sore and exhausted.  That night, tired as she was, she decided not to go to sleep.  If she didn’t sleep, she couldn’t dream, and she wouldn’t be at risk of more of those horrible shocks.  So she sat in her living room reading a good long book, refilling a cup of coffee whenever it got empty, and…

…woke up in her chair the next morning.  She cursed herself for apparently dozing off.  At least she hadn’t had another punishment dream, but her dreams had taken her back to that damn track for another night of pulling some unseen rider around and around.

Rhea’s dreams kept going, not quite every night, but most nights.  She didn’t talk to Luissa about them again, and didn’t get another punishment dream.  In the mornings, she tried not to think about the dreams.  It was bad enough that she had to spend her nights dreaming about being a ponygirl; she didn’t want to spend her days thinking about it too.

But one morning, she couldn’t avoid thinking about her dream from the night before.  For the first time, the rider she was pulling had gotten off the cart.  He stood behind her and reached forward to grab hold of her right nipple.  All Rhea remembered seeing out of the corner of her vision was a black gloved hand that painfully rolled and pulled her nipple.  But she remembered what the rider had said all too well: that ponygirls ought to have their nipples pierced, and that he wanted his ponies to get their nipples pierced before they came back. 

Rhea had no intention of getting her nipples pierced.  She found the concept demeaning and repulsive, and it was just a stupid dream anyway.  But as the day wore on, she worried.  She remembered the punishment dream all too well.  If she didn’t get her nipples pierced, would she know in her mind that she had been disobedient, and would she spend another horrible night getting shocked?  But she wrote that off as ridiculous – she wasn’t going to put holes in her tender flesh just because a dream had told her to!

Rhea thought about trying to stay up all night, but the effort had been worthless the last time she tried.  Instead, as she went to bed, she repeated to herself over and over that she was a good girl and didn’t need to be punished.  She tried to push the idea of punishment out of her mind all together and think happy thoughts, but as she drifted into sleep, that nagging worry was still in her mind…

…Rhea jumped out of bed as soon as she woke up, horrified at her memory of the terrible dream she had had.  It seemed like it had lasted from the moment she drifted off to sleep until just before she had woken up.  She checked her body for marks, but as before, there were none.  It was just a dream, she told herself, but the memories of the horrific shocks from the cattle prod were very real.  The voice had told her again and again that she was a bad girl for not pleasing her master by piercing her nipples.  Those nipples had been the focus of most of the shocks.

Rhea went back to the sleep doctor, desperate for help, but the doctor just told her that she needed to calm down about the whole situation and remember that these were just dreams – she wasn’t really being hurt in her sleep.  But she had tried the night before to just be “calm”, and while these might just be dreams, she couldn’t stand the thought of having another one.  So, Rhea decided that she would stay up all night again, but instead of staying at her house where she was worried she might slip into sleep accidentally, she went out to a late night coffee house.  When the shop closed at 3AM, she figured she would just walk around outside for a couple hours until her gym opened at 5:30.  She was exhausted and pissed at herself for having to do deny herself much needed sleep, but she didn’t know what else to do, so she just walked and walked and…

… Rhea woke up to the sound of someone asking if she was okay.  She was lying in the grass on someone’s front lawn, and she did not feel okay.  She must have passed out from her exhaustion while she had been walking, and she had had another punishment dream.  It had been shorter, but the shocks had been even more painful.

All day at work, she couldn’t stop thinking about how awful the punishment dream had been.  That fucking cattle prod could make her skin feel like it was on fire, and it had been used ruthlessly all over her.  She found herself googling piercing parlors.  There was one fairly close by that looked clean and did nipples… “No!” she shouted at herself, “I won’t do it!  This is crazy!”  But she couldn’t stand the idea of another punishment dream, and she couldn’t think of any other way to avoid it.  The parlor was open until 8PM.  She tried to go just after work, but couldn’t quite work up the nerve to do it.  She forced herself to swallow her pride and go back at 7PM, but still couldn’t bring herself to get out of the car until 7:50.  At that point she ran in, panicked that she might miss her chance and have to endure another night of shocks.  At first, the piercing artist told her she’d have to come back the next day because he didn’t have time to pierce her that night.  But Rhea begged and pleaded with him, and convinced him to make an exception

Sitting in the artist’s chair, topless, while he rubbed a topical anesthetic onto her nipples, Rhea closed her eyes tight and tried not to think about what she was doing to herself just because some stupid dream had told her to.  The artist told her that she had really nice nipples and asked if she was sure she wanted to pierce them.  “Just do it!” she screamed, but then had to swallow her anger and her pride and make nice to keep him from stopping.

Rhea burned with humiliation as she walked back to her car.  After she yelled at him, the bastard had taken pictures of her breasts before he pierced them, saying that he always took before-and-after shots, and that he wouldn’t do the piercing if she refused.  After the first piercing, he took more pictures.  He had started taking one that would clearly include her face as well as her naked breasts, and when she tried to turn away and hide her face he said that she had to smile or he wouldn’t pierce her other nipple.  The ridiculousness of that threat burned Rhea.  She was being forced to get her nipples pierced by a stupid dream that she couldn’t shake, and now she was going to be an advertisement for this jerk because she had waited too long to go anywhere else.  But at least she was going to get a good night’s sleep that night!

The next few weeks passed without another punishment dream.  In Rhea’s first dream after getting her nipples pierced, the rider had stood behind her and fondled both her breasts, playing with the nipple rings that appeared faithfully in her dream as soon as her real nipples had been pierced.  He told her and the other pony how pleased he was with their obedience and willingness to make him happy. He then clipped a set of reins to her nipple rings and proceeded to use them to steer her around the track.

The humiliation of being guided by her nipple rings, and of being told that she was a good girl for obediently getting the piercings for her master, was hard to bear.  But Rhea knew it wasn’t as bad as another night of punishing shocks.  She wanted to get in touch with Luissa to see if she also had been forced to get pierced by her dreams, but her last call had lead to a night of punishment, and her curiosity didn’t come close to overpowering her need to avoid those punishment dreams.  She thought maybe she could try to send Luissa an email or a letter or something, but knew it wouldn’t work.  Her dream had told her not to try to contact her fellow pony, and no matter what medium she used, her brain would know if she tried, and would almost certainly punish her the next night.  There was no way she could hide from her own mind!  And so Rhea kept the humiliating dreams to herself, and night by night became better at obeying the commands from a master she had never seen.

Three weeks after piercing her nipples, Rhea woke up from a dream in which her master had been stroking her ass and talking about how good ponygirl slaves would tattoo the word ‘SLAVE’ on both of their ass cheeks.  She cursed her brain for having come up with this new idea, and the punishment she knew she would dream if she didn’t obey.  She wracked that brain for a way out, but knew she was in the same situation as with her nipple piercings.  She couldn’t escape her dreams, and she couldn’t bear the thought of those punishments again.  But would she really tattoo that word onto her own ass?  Twice??  Tattoos were permanent!  She had figured that at least the nipple piercings would fill in and go away once these damn dreams stopped, but erasing tattoos didn’t really work.  Maybe she could get it covered with something else once the dreams ended…  Rhea realized that she was already assuming that she’d get the tatts, and hung her head in defeat.  She knew she didn’t have the will power to risk another punishment dream.

Rhea tried to pick a respectable looking tattoo parlor and made an appointment this time.  She tried to act professional when she arrived and hoped to just get it over quickly.  But it’s hard to act professional when you’re bent over a table with your pants down, and you really can’t expect a tattoo artist not to comment when you ask him to permanently write ‘SLAVE’ on both of your cheeks.  He had looked her up and down pretty hard when she told him what she wanted, and when she dropped her pants he told her that she had one lucky master.  She glared over her shoulder and told him that it wasn’t like that.  He just chuckled and condescendingly patted the bare butt that she was presenting to him.

That night in Rhea’s dream, the rider was quite pleased that both of his ponies had quickly obeyed him by tattooing their flanks.  He ordered them both into the kneeling position.  With her faced pressed to the floor, Rhea could only see the rider’s black boots out of the corner of her eye, but she could feel his hand caressing the very tender tattoos on her ass and give her a couple very painful slaps.  He then praised her for her obedience and told her that he was going to give her a reward.  She felt something hard pressed against her pussy lips and pushed slowly into her.  The dildo was large and filled her completely by the time her rider had pushed it all the way in.  The intruder was locked in place by a strap that was passed between her legs and tied off to her corset.  That strap also pressed some kind of attachment on the end of the dildo directly against Rhea’s clit, which made her nervous.

Rhea woke that morning with an embarrassingly large wet spot on her bed.  Apparently the orgasms in her dream had translated to real orgasms.  She really didn’t like the control these dreams had come to assert over her, but in her dream the very next night she remembered hoping that she’d be rewarded again, and trying to be extra good so that she might get it.  It was humiliating to think that she was debasing herself that way in her dreams just to get vibrated, but shit, she’d been obeying orders most every night for months now.  She’d completely stopped communicating with her friend Luissa, and she’d even pierced and tattooed herself.  She couldn’t fool herself – she was a slave, through-and-through, for however long her dreams wanted to keep her.

18.07.10

story continues in Dreams Part 2: 3 Years Later

o0o