What Dreams May Come

It was just lying there when I first found it. Lying as if forgotten in the back corner of the dilapidated sex shop, a thin veneer of dust showing well that no one had bothered with it for some time. I saw no tag or marking on it anywhere to indicate the price, let alone the brand or model.

It was a dark little thing, its shape and slender straps leading me at first to take it for something quite innocuous. Wow, who left a face mask back here, of all things? But it had been four years already since the pandemic – and besides, a quiet little sex shop tucked away two blocks from the main square didn't exactly seem like a place that would sell selling simple masks... And then, once it had caught my eye and I'd turned it over curiously, I realized my mistake.

It was a muzzle. And not just any muzzle. For within the very center of its silky leather confines, there protruded the instantly recognizable – and for me, pulse-quickening – shape of a stiff cock, convincingly molded out of smooth rubber.

It's a penis gag, I realized, with a sudden lurch deep within my subby little soul. Fuck, yes. This thing will be- well, a most welcome addition to the collection. Oh my, what would Derek have thought? And so, with only a hint of a blush beneath my brunette bob, I ended up dutifully paying the burly proprietor for the thing and slipping out into the street with it. Safely wrapped in an inconspicuous paper bag, of course.

Because even girls like me still need to have fun.

***

Life sure has a habit of getting in the fucking way of our dreams, doesn't it?

I hadn't gotten more than halfway home when my phone burst to life in a vibrating flurry of texts, emails, DMs, and reminders. And on a Saturday, too! The marketing campaign had hit a sudden snag; image rights were being contested; sales was whining because they hadn't gotten their stupid merch before the big trade show... Yeah, it all went to hell in a hand basket, and stayed there for pretty much the rest of the day. And honestly, by the time I got done putting out all the metaphorical fires, all I wanted was a bottle of wine, a TV dinner, and my favorite cheesy Netflix drama – all of which kept me occupied until nearly midnight.

"I'll play with you later," I murmured amiably to the paper parcel on the dresser, shuffling past it on my way to take a much-needed pee. "Gotta clean you up first... when I have the fucking time..." Then, within minutes the bed was sucking me into its gravitational vortex. I barely got my jeans and top off before I slid, already half-asleep, under the covers.

***

The gleaming floor fills my vision, endless and immovable. Its wood is cold against my palms, my knees, my toes. There's a familiar scent filling my nostrils, an odor of... something I can't quite recall.

I hear... such sounds. A rhythmic echo, muffled as if reaching me from a great distance. It's the sound of panting. Breathing. Like the helpless flutter of a wild creature, caught and imprisoned in some trap. And I hear above it another sound: the warm, vibrating rumble of a masculine voice, indistinct and yet communicating such calm, soul-quieting things...

I can taste, too, I find. I taste... an unforgettable tang, edged in a subtle bitterness, yet slightly sweet at the same time. I swallow... and then realize the truth in a searing jolt of clarity.

This muffled ostinato of panicked breathing... It's my own. This tightness around my head... this taste of mouth-filling silence... This is me, all me. I'm- I'm-

"Good puppy," the voice observes, calm and warm as ever. "Good puppy. Master is pleased with you. You look so lovely in your nice new muzzle, puppy..." Master... Yes, Master. I don't see him, but I know him. Master, yes. The man I love – have loved with all my soul. The man who first taught me how to love, and serve, and love to serve...

Master, I long to cry out. But I am a good puppy: obedient and muzzled as I kneel before him, open and helpless. I grunt softly, the warm breath from my nose flooding upward, and I suckle harder on the artificial cock Master has given to me. I am good puppy. And even as I feel the caress of his hands on my naked body, and as a moan of adoration and longing escapes me, the scene is already slipping away as inexplicably as it came...

***

The light is slow in returning – and when it does, it's only a low wash of muted crimson, throbbing in time to the low rumble of distant bass. I'm no longer kneeling, I realize with a twinge of disappointment. I'm erect, arms flung high, standing... no, almost hanging, stretching up almost on tiptoe...

I glance down, feeling only a mild wave of interest as I see my own breasts, hanging soft and pendulous and exposed for all to see. I tug, and tug again, and find that nothing changes, save that those breasts sway and dip gently with every tug. My wrists and ankles are made fast, I now realize. And yes – as the light grows I can see the inky cuffs circling them, the gleam of metal holding me prisoner against this unyielding frame. Even the muzzle has traveled with me, I discover at last, and I suckle it again here, its silent familiarity a odd comfort in this unknown place...

The crack of hot pain across my buttocks catches me by surprise, as does the low growl of the voice I know so well in my ear. "Disobedient cunt," he mutters, and my body lurches in its cuffs as the second stroke descends. "Maybe this will teach you to do as you're told." Uunnhhh. I can only grunt with every slap of the paddle, completely at Master's mercy. "Go ahead, suck on that cock for me." Uunnhhhh! "Show me what you're good for..." Uuummmhh-

The world begins to blur around me, the rumble of bass and the thumping of my heart and the slapping of the paddle and the clink and thud as my body jolts from each blow all melding into a feverish, savage rhythm. I'm sucking mindlessly now, my captive self reeling in a swirl of mingled pain and pleasure. I exist now, in the moment, and that is all. I am ablaze with a fire of pain and longing, and only Master will ever be able to extinguish it.

The last thought in my mind, before all slips away once more into nothingness, is a simple mantra.

His name.

***

The world is quiet when the light dawns again. Quiet, and white, with soft shades of imperceptible color fuzzing away at the edges of my blurry sight. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the gentle musical tinkle of a vaguely familiar melody, comforting in its soft, persistent repetitions.  Soft, too, is the touch of this world: against my curling fingers, against my sleepily stretching legs, against my cheek...

Though even here, it seems that the muzzle has a place. I suck gratefully on its familiar shape, blinking slowly as the world begins to take shape. Bars towering steeply upward... Pastel shapes spinning dreamily above me... It's almost as if I've been here once before, but have forgotten...

His voice is velvety soft when it comes. "Good morning, baby. Wakey-wakey, my dearest little one..." And then I see him: his beloved face bending down to greet me, a smile on his beautiful lips. "Such a sweet little thing! I bet you slept really well in your new crib, didn't you?"

Crib... Me, crib...? But no, cribs are for babies...

And then my drowsy mind finally begins to understand. The softness... the bars... the thick cotton that swathes my fingers, that prevents me from tugging this muzzle off to speak his name aloud. This time, I am his... his baby.

"Good girl," he coos, and I cannot help but whimper softly, wriggling in sudden delight at the sweetness in his voice. "Such a good girl with her nice big dummy, hmm? I bet you want to suck on things all the time, now, don't you? That's what babies like you love to do, after all..." Yes, Daddy, my mind unhesitatingly babbles. Yes, Daddy, please, please, I'll suck and drink and be good baby girl for you always and always and always-

And then he bends closer still with a wry smile. "Though of course we'll need to change those soggy diapers sooner or later! Let's see: just how wet are we, little one?"

Yes, Daddy- Wait... Wet? Diapers?!

***

I woke to find myself soaked.

Soaked in sweat, of course. "Holy hell," I mumbled, mouth sour with the aftertaste of wine. "One hell of a dream..." And then I stumbled out of bed toward the paper packet still lying undisturbed on the dresser, precisely where I'd left it.

As the gleaming thing slipped free from the paper parcel, my heart leapt into my mouth. For now I could see, glinting in the morning light, neatly embossed along the inside of one strap, a simple little line of text: text bearing the name of him who had been this night my Master and my Daddy...

From Derek, with undying love