Dreams

A light drumming of fingers on the door wakes him. He is not a “light sleeper,” he is a fragile sleeper, disturbed by anything. Perhaps he was already awake.

The door opens. It is Belle. Not all that long ago, he had the staff rotations in his head, and would know which girl to expect. Lately, though, the days have become confused, and he could not have predicted who would appear first.

Once upon a time the girls had had uniforms, but he changed the rules to let them decide what to wear. Variety made for interest. Belle wears black T-strap sandals with a five-inch heel, over white ankle socks with an eyelet lace collar. Fuck-me shoes and little-girl socks, always a spicy combo. She wears a mini-apron, white, also lacy, just enough to cover her pussy and a bit of leg. Her black collar matches the gloss of her heels; the white lace cuffs at her wrists match her socks. On the prominent nipples of her small breasts there are clips, and a delicate chain hangs from one to the other.

In her hair is the lace headband of a maidservant, the only ornament that remains of the compulsory uniform.

Belle draws back the bed-covers, kneels between his legs, and begins to suck. As he stiffens and grows, she does not back down. He is an exceptionally endowed man, and Belle is the only girl on staff who can take him all the way into her throat. She does so, with enthusiasm, and he moans in pleasure.

She throats him, hard and deep, without hands of course, stroking him with her plunging face. When he explodes, his cum coats her throat and flows into her stomach. She won’t taste him until she lifts back and holds his oozing cock in her mouth, coaxing out the last drops with her tongue.

There is another pro-forma knock at the bedroom door, and Kitty comes in, pushing the breakfast cart. She kisses him first, and then kisses Belle, at length, so he can watch. Kitty sets up the breakfast tray and moves dishes to it from the cart. The scent of coffee fills the air.

Kitty is wearing sheer black stockings, suspended by a lacy black garter belt, and Barbie-pink platform pumps. Her balconette bra is in matching pink, and her generous breasts are proudly presented, nipples erect. She wears the servant’s lace headband, and as usual her kitten-tail butt-plug. If she were to omit that fetching accessory, she would feel a great deal of pain when he used her asshole. The stretching helps, at least a little bit.

As he breakfasts, Kitty and Belle share his cock and balls, with plenty of girl-girl kissing for visual appeal. It won’t be much longer before he recovers, ready for more attention.

Robin enters. She wears red ankle-strap heels and a red ribbon tied in a bow around her neck, with the obligatory headdress. She has brought a tawse and a paddle in case the morning girls have misbehaved in any way, or in case they’ve been perfect but he’s in the mood. Finding no room to add her face to the suck-fest, she contents herself with finger-fucking her colleagues.

He is fully erect again, and considers the nine-hole menu in his bedroom. What pleasure shall he choose? All of the options are promising. Perhaps…

---

“Nurse Robins.”

“Doctor Katz, Doctor Bell.” Professionally courteous, the three of them.

“Any developments?”

“No. It’s been a week since he opened his eyes. The morphine is maxed.”

“Not much else we can do.”

“No. Is he responding to any stimulus?”

“Not as far as we can tell. He gets an erection now and then, that’s about it.”

“Must be good dreams.”

“Let’s hope so. Ok, page me if there’s any change.”

“Of course, Doctor.”

They leave him to his last dreams.

— Frenulum