The silence of the bedroom was heavy, broken only by the ragged, terrified breathing of the woman curled up on the mattress.
Ye Rou lay in the fetal position, her knees drawn up to her chest, her face buried in her hands. Her cheeks were burning with a feverish heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. In the darkness, her skin flushed a deep, shameful crimson, glowing with the aftermath of the violation she had just welcomed in her sleep.
"It was just a dream," she whispered into her sweating palms, her voice cracking. "Just a dream. He is... he is your son."
But the logic of the day held no power here. The dream had been too visceral. Too real.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the image of Kai—her sweet, helpful stepson—looming over her like a dark god, his massive erection glistening in the red light. She tried to forget the feeling of his mouth on her breast, the way he had split her open and claimed her.
It is a sin. A dirty, filthy sin.
She tried to lie still. She tried to force her body to calm down, to let the sleep reclaim her.
But her body was in revolt.
The Dream Walker Incense had done its work perfectly. It hadn't just planted an image; it had rewired her nervous system. The phantom sensation of being filled was slowly fading, leaving behind a cavernous, aching emptiness between her legs. Her womb throbbed with a dull, heavy pulse, demanding to be filled again.
Every time she shifted, her nightgown rubbed against her nipples.
Zing.
A jolt of electricity shot straight down to her clitoris.
"No..." Ye Rou whimpered, biting her lip until it tasted of iron. "I can't... I won't..."
She lasted three minutes.
With a choked sob of defeat, Ye Rou sat up. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She reached for the hem of her nightgown.
"It's... it's just a physical reaction," she rationalized, her voice trembling in the dark. "I just need to... release the tension. Then I can sleep. It has nothing to do with him. It's just... for my own pleasure."
She pulled the gown over her head and tossed it aside.
The cool night air hit her naked skin, making her nipples tighten painfully. She looked down at her own body in the pale moonlight. Her breasts were heavy, swaying slightly with her rapid breathing, the areolas dark and expanded. Her stomach was soft and pale. And below...
Her hand drifted down.
She touched her inner thigh first. It was slick.
"Oh god..."
She was soaking wet. A thick, honey-like nectar coated her thighs, a physical testament to how much she had enjoyed the dream.
She slid her fingers into the hair between her legs. Her pussy was swollen, puffy with heat. The lips were parted slightly, weeping fluid.
Ye Rou gulped, her throat dry. She lay back down, spreading her legs wide, her heels digging into the mattress.
"Just for me," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Don't think about him. Think about... nothing."
She touched her clit.
Gasp.
Her back arched off the mattress instantly. Her clitoris was incredibly sensitive, primed by the dream. She began to rub it. Circle. Press. Circle.
She tried to focus on the sensation of her own skin. She tried to imagine a faceless lover, or perhaps memories of her late husband.
But it didn't work. The pleasure was flat. It was just friction.
Her mind rebelled. The darkness behind her eyelids shifted. The faceless lover dissolved, and he stepped forward.
Kai.
The man who had owned her in the dream.
The moment his face appeared in her mind, the pleasure spiked. It turned from a dull buzz into a roaring fire.
"No..." she moaned, shaking her head side to side on the pillow. "Not him... anyone but him..."
But her hand moved faster.
She couldn't help it. She imagined his large, rough hand replacing her own. She imagined his thumb—the one that had pressed into her asshole during the massage—rubbing her clit now.
"Ah! Mmm..."
She reached up with her free hand and grabbed her left breast. She squeezed the soft flesh hard, just like he had done. She pinched her own nipple, twisting it, trying to replicate the suction of his mouth.
"Kai..."
The name slipped out. A whisper of sin.
Once she said it, the dam broke.
She stopped fighting. She let the fantasy wash over her.
She imagined the door opening. She imagined the real Kai walking in, seeing her naked and masturbating. She imagined him locking the door and walking toward the bed, unzipping his pants.
Squelch. Squelch.
The sound of her fingers working against her wet pussy filled the room. She was pumping her hand now, rubbing frantically.
"Yes... that's it..."
She took her middle finger and pushed it inside.
It slid in effortlessly, coated in her own juices. But it wasn't enough. It was too small.
"Too small..." she wept, bucking her hips to meet her hand. "I need... I need it bigger..."
She imagined the thick, veiny monster from her dream. She imagined the weight of it stretching her entrance.
She pushed two fingers in. Then three. She scissored them inside herself, fucking herself with a desperate, sloppy rhythm.
Slap. Slap.
Her palm slapped against her wet mound.
"Fuck me..." she panted, her head thrashing. "Fuck me, son..."
The words were dirty. Taboo. But saying them made her pussy clench tight around her fingers. It made her womb contract.
"Yes! Use me! Just like in the dream!"
She imagined him pinning her down. She imagined him calling her a slut. She imagined his cum filling her up.
"I want it! I want your cock!"
Ye Rou was lost. She was no longer a mother. She was a woman in heat, begging for the one thing she couldn't have. She twisted her nipple hard, pain mixing with pleasure. She drove her fingers deep, hitting her cervix.
"Kai! Kai! Oh god, Kai!"
The climax hit her like a physical blow.
Her entire body went rigid. Her toes curled. A scream built in her throat, but she bit down on her arm to stifle it, turning it into a muffled, guttural wail.
"NNNGGGH!"
Waves of intense, blinding pleasure rolled through her. Her vaginal walls clamped down on her fingers, milking them. Her hips convulsed, bucking off the mattress in rapid spasms. Fluid gushed out of her, coating her hand, soaking the sheets beneath her.
She stayed there, suspended in the peak for endless seconds, her mind filled with nothing but the image of his face and the feeling of his name on her lips.
Slowly, the spasms faded.
Her body collapsed back onto the bed, limp and exhausted. Her chest heaved. Her legs fell open, trembling.
The silence returned to the room, heavier than before.
Ye Rou lay there in the mess she had made. The smell of her own musk was thick in the air—the scent of a woman who had just reached her limit.
Slowly, the reality of what she had done crashed down on her.
She pulled her hand out from between her legs. It was glistening in the moonlight.
She looked at it, and tears began to stream down her face. She pulled the sheet up, covering her naked, shivering body, curling back into a ball.
She felt dirty. She felt hollow. But beneath the guilt, there was a terrifying realization: She wanted to do it again.
She buried her face in the pillow, sobbing softly into the feathers.
"I am sorry, son..." she whispered into the dark, her heart aching. "I am so sorry..."