Continued from… A dream fantasy (1/2)
The hands of the man were still on Rebel’s shoulders, keeping her steady.
“They wanted you,” he whispered. Rebel was still trying to grasp the full meaning of his words when she heard a man’s footsteps approaching again. She sensed him in front of her. She heard his breathing. She saw him standing in front of her when her blindfold was removed from her eyes. She had to blink her eyes to get used to the light. It was then that she realized that she was on a stage. She was standing with her back to the… to the public! Was she on a stage in a theater? Rebel looked at her shadows on the floor. The light that framed their silhouettes was bright – a spotlight.
She did. The spotlight prevented her from seeing the people that she knew were seated out there. Rebel replayed the words she heard in her mind: They wanted you. What did the man mean? Here she was, alone on the stage – half-naked. What did she have to do? She remembered the inspection and even though she was feeling nervous, a feeling of pride filled her too. They wanted her. They inspected her and the other woman and they wanted her. Rebel grew some as she straightened her back with pride, pushing her tits forward even more.
Suddenly everything was dark. The spotlight was turned off and some soft lights were turned on in the theater. It took a while for her to see, but then Rebel started to recognize some of the faces in the chairs. Oh no! An incredible urge to flee took hold of her, but her wrists were firmly held by the two men. She tried to turn away from the crowd in front of her, but she was not allowed. Rebel tried to bend over so she could conceal her naked body, but she was held upright. The men held her firmly, preventing her from moving. The faces in front of her were all of men she had met in her professional life, men she had done business with, men in suits.
The men held her hands and started to walk to the same side of the stage as where she heard the other woman’s footsteps disappear. Rebel sighed with relief. The humiliation of being naked in front of her business contacts was almost more than she could bear. How would she ever be able to face them again? Moments later she realized her ordeal was not over. She was not led away as she expected to be, but she was led down the stairs and then around the front of the stage. She tried not to look at the men in the front row, but her eyes were drawn there. Rebel gasped as she saw some of her male colleagues. And the IT guy. Oh no, she thought when she saw the guy she had a meeting with just the day before.
Before she could recognize anyone else, the men stopped. Rebel turned her head to the other side. In the middle of the stage was a slanting part. The men turned her towards this part and pushed her hips against the stage. A hand in her back pushed her forward until she was resting her upper body on the wood of the stage. It felt cold on her breasts. Her legs were spread. Rebel felt cold steel touching her ankles. Her feet were cuffed. One of the men was back on the stage. He grabbed Rebel’s wrists and cuffed them together. Then he slipped the chain between the cuffs on a hook that was anchored in the stage floor. Rebel’s body was stretched, her legs spread. She was embarrassed when she thought about the view the men behind her had on her behind; on her wet pussy.
Her embarrassment grew when the spotlight suddenly came on with a loud bang. She felt the warmth of the light on her body. She saw the oblong shadow of her head on either side of her outstretched arms. She heard the ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ sounds of the men in the audience behind her. Rebel felt her face go warm with blushing. A mixture of pride and humiliation filled her body – the two emotions fighting to predominate. When a trickle of wetness ran from her pussy, pride and lust were the only feelings that remained. Was it her imagination, or did she just arched her back to show the men more of her wetness?
Behind her she heard the seats tipping up again. The murmur of voices grew and the sounds came nearer. She tried to turn her head to see what was happening, but with her arms stretched out far ahead of her, it was difficult. She could see the men forming a line, but she could not see the men standing directly behind her. What were they going to do? Inspect her again, but then much more closely than before?
Rebel gasped and instantly understood why the men had formed a line. Her wet cunt was slowly entered by a rigid cock. It filled her up entirely, touching the sensitive walls of her vagina. The lust inside her was on fire. On fire by the cock that ignited it. On fire because without being told she knew that all these men would fuck her. One by one. Her horniness intensified by the thought that there was no way she would be able to prevent it. Rebel did not mind. She enjoyed feeling the array of cocks enter her – thick, thin, short, and long. Some of the men held her hips while fucking her. Others grabbed her ass cheeks and some of them just fucked her, without touching her.
Rebel had several orgasms while she was fucked. None of the men spoke to her. She never knew just who was fucking her. But, she did not care anymore. She knew that she would have to face these men again the next day or the next week or the next month. The thought of that just made her feel her embarrassment again for a couple of seconds, but her next orgasm totally changed the feeling back to only lust. She did not care about tomorrow anymore, only about now. The lust, the orgasm, the fucking, the excitement.
In my dream I literally saw myself walking proud and almost naked, smiling and greeting people I know from my business life. And yes, I was fucked by them all. I did not see that in my dream, but I sensed it. I had this dream when I fell back asleep one morning. I awoke ten minutes later. The suggestions in the dream, the feelings I felt – pride, humiliation, lust – made a huge impression on me. So much so that I can still vividly remember both the dream and those feelings. Isn’t it funny how in our dreams we do things that we would probably never dare to do in our real lives?
© Rebel’s Notes