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 Post subject: Sea
PostPosted: Fri Mar 06, 2009 8:35 am 
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Joined: Fri Jan 18, 2008 10:02 am
Posts: 859
Location: London/Gatwick
I had a dream about a femsub on a boat. My point of perception changed several times, as often happens in dreams. At one point I was the handcuffed, blindfolded woman. At another, I was her lover, restraining her arms. Most of the time I was neither character, just an impassive, discarnate observer of two people I'd never met on the dark, gale-spattered deck of a car-ferry. It was the overnight crossing. Both the roar of the waves and their taste on the turbulent air hit her as soon as she was pushed, hands cuffed behind her back, out of the door and onto the deck. Despite the blindfold, she knew that her lover - gripping her arm slightly too hard, shoving, dragging - was the only other person out here. The boat slept fitfully, stirring and groaning. She could feel the storm against her face. The salty wind, her invisible assailant, slammed into her body from several directions at once, becoming something other than air, almost solid, the texture of hot tar, and it pushed insistently at her, tried to knock her off her feet. She wore sandals. The metal deck was cool, puddled, seawater pooling around her toes. Its surface was slippery. Gravity toppled one way, then the other. This predicament had been her fault, of course. She had craved the steel around her wrists. She had wanted the restraints, the danger, that tingling ache in her shoulders as her arms were wrenched back behind her. Another step, pushed forward. It might have been raining, though perhaps the splashes she could feel were merely the remnants of smashed waves, tiny pinpricks of horizontal water cutting into her skin. Her lover forced her to take another step, fingers biting into her arms. The boat tipped again, and she stumbled. She sensed that she must be close to the edge of the deck. There would be a railing, wouldn't there? A flutter of panic. An intake of breath. A rushing, gushing, excitement as her toe rested on nothing. There was only blackness between her wide eyes and the thick blindfold. What lay in front, in the emptiness where her foot hung, unable to venture further - the top of a flight of steps? A ledge? A lifeboat? Or just space, stretching out in front and below, just endless darkness and cold, salt water between her body and the horizon. If her lover let her fall, she wouldn't swim. Even without the handcuffs, the current would pull her under before she could even attempt to breathe, words lost in the ferry's mighty wake. The thought of this made her cunt twitch involuntarily. Her own insignificance against something as big and as powerful as nature itself, against another human being who held momentary control over whether she would live or die - oh fuck - the prospect caused her to her tip her head back against her lover's shoulders, the dizzying helplessness overwhelming her for a moment. She could be made to disappear. Nobody would see her fall. One tiny body vanishing, with an inaudible splash, into an infinite sea. Without warning, her lover tugged at the blindfold, pulling it roughly away from her face. Her eyes adjusted, and she felt the click of handcuffs being undone. The rest of the deck stretched out in front of her. Just one step down, then more of the same white painted metal and a bolted-down bench, damp with spray. Not the edge of the Universe then, after all. She threaded her trembling fingers through those of her lover, and watched the first torn, red blush of sunrise above the flat horizon. At some point, the couple's narrator woke up and decided to turn their experience into a hurriedly-typed, overly-descriptive blog entry.

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