Herhumiliation is delicious.
I step into the dream fully, not as myself, but as an invisible presence. I amplify her anxiety, sharpening the guests' features into the most alien and most intimidating species she encountered today.
Ardon Val approaches. In her dream, he reaches across the counter and grabs her arm. “You'd make a lovely pet,” dream-Val says. “Let's see how you look in a pet’s collar.”
Her fear spikes, but there's something else beneath it. Something she's trying to suppress.
I search her physical reactions.Ah, I see; these are almost completely masked by the Venus Lock.But I found her secret: she’s scared, but aroused at the same time.
Humans are such contradictory creatures.
In the dream, Val drags her from behind the desk. Other guests gather, watching as he tears at her uniform, all the while saying, “Pets don’t wear clothing.”
She struggles and cries out, but no one helps, and she feels ashamed when she's naked and collared in the lobby.
I slide my presence into dream Val’s form, erasing him. Then, kneeling before her, I circle her sensitive nipple with my tongue. Her breath stutters, and her body arches with longing, despite her shame. Her dream taste is everything I imagined—salt and fear, but underneath it, the first trace of sweetness. Her nipples harden under my mouth, swollen peaks meant to command men like me, and I worship them with slow, possessive sucks until her whimper turns into a helpless moan.
“You are not theirs,” I whisper against her breast. “Never theirs.”
Her hands clutch my hair, desperate and afraid of what she is allowing. I suck harder, biting down gently on her nipples, until she moans again.
“And you’re nothis to take,” I whisper into the dreamscape, remembering she still sees me as Val. “I’m not him.”
I nudge her mind, so the dream shifts. Val disappears, and the lobby transforms into something else entirely. A garden. Familiar to her somehow, although she's never been here before.
Paradise.
The word surfaces from her subconscious, carrying with it layers of human religious conditioning.Eve in the Garden.How perfectly appropriate.
She stands naked among flowering trees, unashamed in her innocence, just as her namesake once did, and it makes me ache to corrupt her.
My cock throbs with the need to plunge deep into that untouched cunt, to tear away every remnant of her mortal shame and baptize her in the only truth that matters…pleasure.
I manifest myself slowly. Not as my true form, that would shatter the symbolism, but as a shadowy serpentine creature that I glean from her mind. “What do you desire, little Eve?”
At the sound of my voice, she covers her breasts and vulva with her hands. Decades of religious conditioning are activating neural pathways, filling her with guilt for her nakedness and for the pleasure she felt moments before.
This is too easy.
“The religious ones who raised you taught you that desire is a sin,” I observe, letting my presence brush against her skin. “That pleasure leads to damnation.”
“Yes,” she whispers, tears forming in her dream-eyes. “You shouldn't be here. This is wrong.”
“But this is just a dream. You’rein the Celestial Spire where pleasure is pleasure.” I manifest more fully now, but in a serpentine form. “How ironic that your corruption should happen in galactic paradise itself.”
She trembles, and her emotions are all over the place, caught between fear and fascination.
“I can give you knowledge,” I promise, the words echoing through her memories of this place. “Everything your nuns denied you. Every pleasure they called a sin.”
“I shouldn't,” she breathes, but her body betrays her; her arousal is building despite her protests.
“Shouldn't want?” I laugh softly. “Shouldn't touch? Shouldn't hunger?” I slither around her, and my serpentine tongue licks at her neck and she trembles.
I can’t help myself now.
I produce a jeweled collar on my serpentine tongue. “Put it on,” I whisper in her ear, sending more shivers down her body. “Choose knowledge, pleasure, and me. Become mine.”
With a shaky hand, she reaches for the collar.
