The Brothel on the Sea of Dream - Part 2

Part 2

Since I needed more than just basic supplies, I couldn't just go to the Tesco Express I'd seen on my way into Winslow. I shifted in my car seat and pulled my mobile phone out my pocket. A little poking around found a Tesco Extra half an hour away, North-East of Milton Keynes. As much as I disliked Milton Keynes, a Tesco Extra would have everything I needed.

I more-or-less followed the path I'd taken to reach Winslow but in reverse - up the A421, pass Bletchley, of Park fame, and then through Milton Keynes to Kingston. Kingston was a different kind of artificial to Milton Keynes proper. Some bygone landscape architect or civic engineer had gone to a lot of trouble to make the area look green and alive. Tall, well established trees created leafy walls along curving roads and manicured shrubbery ran lower to the ground. In my opinion they had failed. It looked plastic, not like real nature at all.

I turned left into the carpark of the gigantic Tesco Extra and drove around until I found a parking spot. The place was surprisingly busy for a Friday afternoon so I ended up parked quite a way from the main doors. Mothers with toddlers in toe pushed trollies piled high with frozen foodstuff and household goods.

It took me several hours of wandering to get everything I needed and it was late afternoon by the time I pushed my trolley out of the shop, piled high with food, cleaning supplies, bedding and other assorted detritus I'd need to form a habitable nest within Somnus House's dusty corridors. I loaded it into my car, returned the trolley and set off back to Winslow.

It should have been a short journey. Unfortunately fate was against me. I spied flashing police lights ahead and the traffic on the A421, now much thickened by commuters, ground to a halt. I slowed carefully, then slammed by car in to neutral and put the handbrake on. It looked to be a long wait.

It was past ten at night by the time my car limped up Somnus House's overgrown drive. I felt awful, sweaty, cramped and needing relief in the bathroom. There had been an accident on the road and I'd been locked in by traffic until the police and accident rescue could remove the wrecks. That had taken hours.

In the dark, Somnus House appeared an almost malevolent shape, black like a wall of night. I lugged my shopping out of the car, fought with the stiff lock to open the front door and dragged everything up to the master bedroom. I could unpack on Saturday and I'd made sure not to buy any short-term perishables, the house lacking even a basic fridge or freezer. In fact, Ms Wright had briefly mentioned an ice room during her whistle-stop tour. Hopefully that was a feature preserved for its quaint, old-time colour and not a general use utility.

The first thing I did was grab my new toiletries and disappear into the ancient bathroom off the master bedroom. The fittings were old and brass. The pipes gurgled as I turned the taps and the toilet was an ancient porcelain throne. Still, everything worked and I felt slightly better when I returned. Now I wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.

I dressed the four post bed with my newly purchased linens, pulled out a light quilt from the plastic bag it came in, set a small lamp on an impromptu pile of boxes by the bed and began stripping off my clothes. I slipped off my jacket, unbuttoned my shirt and shimmied out of my jeans. Before I put the jeans away, I went through the pockets, removing my phone, some loose change and a large clay coin.

I stared at it for a few long seconds. My discoveries in the secret room seemed a long way off. Still… I rubbed the dream token with the pad of my thumb, feeling the triskelion.

What had the letter said? Hold in hand, for good dreams? After my day, I needed all the good sleep I could get.

I killed the room's main light and clambered into the bed. The ancient springs groaned and shifted under my weight but it was better than sleeping on the floor. Indeed, it was strangely comfortable.

My last thought before I went to sleep, coin clutched in hand, was that the odd figures carved into the bed bore an eerie resemblance to the phantasms which decorated the edge of the map of the Sea of Dream.

---

I seldom remember my dreams. There are a few nightmares which have stayed with me - strange, almost abstract terrors of terrible machines one part away from completion and great giants against who I was nothing. This was nothing like that.

I found myself in an empty black void which spilled away in all directions. I had a body, sort of, and I could feel the dream token clutched against my palm.

A point of light appeared ahead of me. It grew larger and larger, as if getting closer, until it filled half the world. Then a door crashed down within it, like a dropping drawbridge.

The doorway showed the parlour of a great house. Fantastic and fantastical art hung on the walls and drapes in deep colours swirled against the walls, as if stirred by a soft wind.

A woman stepped into the doorway. She wore a swishing brocade dress in deep purple with violet highlights, almost Victorian. It displayed her breasts in ruffled bodice, hugged her waist as if she wore a corset and flared around her hips in a thick bustle. She wore her almost white-blonde hair in a complex updo, twisted in interesting knots around her head. Her face was perfect, as if spun from finest china.

"Welcome to the Brothel on the Sea of Dream," she said with a sparkling smile and held out a hand.

I just stared. I had no idea what was going on. I mean, this was a dream, obviously, but I couldn't recall having this sort of dream before.

She laughed and it was full and deep, like an earthy goddess. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the door of light. I stumbled on the other side and looked around gawking. The place was amazing, like a high class mansion, fitted and styled as only money and privilege could. Had Somnus House once looked like this - potent in power and majesty?

"Where?" I said as I cast from side to side. "Who? What?"

She raised one velvet gloved had to partly cover her mouth and laughed again. "I told you," she said. "This is the Brothel on the Sea of Dream. You have one of our tokens and that grants you a night of pleasure the likes of which you can scarcely imagine. We make your dreams."

The incompleteness of the last sentence struck me. "Come true?" I said without thinking. She looked confused. "You mean come true. That's the saying: make your dreams come true."

She laughed a third time and laid her figures gently on my arm. "Oh we have no need for truth here. Despite what the classics might say, there is but one gate and it is of both horn and ivory." Her voice grew low and husky. "We can be much more fun that way."

Her fingers danced down my arm and reached my hand. She tapped the back and I opened my fist. She plucked the coin from my grasp.

"You truly do not know what you hold?"

I shook my head. In truth I knew some, what the letter had said, but that was scarcely more than nothing.

"This is the symbol of my employer, the owner of this place." She tapped the triskelion marked on the coin. "His will formed it from the phantoms of the fog sea and his power wards it against unwanted intruders. His agents trade these coins in the waking world in exchange for favours and we honour them in Dream. Since the token bares his mark, it links to his place of power, here."

"Honour them?" I asked. It was the only part of the explanation which stayed in my head.

She smiled like a stalking cat. "I did say this was the Brothel on the Sea of Dream. I am Lyra, the madam of this establishment. Come this way and you can make your choice."

She took me by the hand and led me through a doorway partly covered by diaphanous hanging cloth. On the other side was a corridor. A beautiful naked redhead ran passed, chased by an older gentleman with close cropped grey hair. They both were laughing.

Lyra took me to a cosy chamber, filled with low sofas. A crackling fire sat at the far end and a polished wooden bar ran along the wall, full of glass and crystal. Beautiful women and a few men lounged on the sofas, chatting, drinking from goblets filled with ruby red wine and eating skinless grapes.

They rose as we entered. Lyra clapped her hands and they lined up. They wore light robes that fell from shoulders and hung against hips. Hints of lingerie showed. To a one they were stunning, their bodies toned and fit, their breasts large and shapely, their faces showing the vigour and excitement of youth.

"The Brothel on the Sea of Dream is equipped to meet your every desire," said Lyra from behind me. Her hands settled on my shoulders and her heated words tickled my ear. "These men and women will make your dreams. You need but choice one. Should they not quite meet your desires… They are all skilled oneironauts. The owner recruited them at much expense and they have certain talents you might enjoy. Trixie?"

A tiny blonde with a pixie cut smiled and flicked her hips. As she did, the light and shadow around her face shifted and I blinked despite myself. When I looked at her anew she was different. Cat ears sprouted from her head and a long tail whipped about from underneath her robe.

"In dream," Lyra whispered, "true and illusion are one, horn and ivory." She laid a butterfly kiss against the side of my neck and I shivered where I stood. Needless to say I was hard, very hard. My cock strained in my trousers.

"Can I pick you?" I asked before I could think better of it.

Lyra laughed once more, just as deep and full of life as ever. She spun around me and gazed into my eyes. Hers were a fascinating hazel colour, combined with a starburst which was almost amber.

"Perhaps, perhaps." She flipped my dream token into the air and snatched it up on the way down. "I have been known to take the occasional client from among those who come calling and I do like your face. She ran two fingers down my cheek as she gazed at me, head cocked to one side. "And I think I might very much like this." She brushed my crotch and I almost exploded. The simple touch sent a raging wave of pleasurable static through my body and I groaned.

She took my hand in hers, her fingers long and manicured. "Oh very well. This way." She pulled me to a door in the wall and pulled it open. Layered hanging curtains hid inside from out. She broke our grip and moved through, brushing aside the hanging cloth with the sensual grace of an exotic dancer and the passion of a minx.

I followed. The room was small but not claustrophobic. A large sturdy bed stood in the centre of the room, the sheets a dark purple. A window hung on the wall, showing nothing but swirling fog.

Lyra skipped to the bed. Just before the foot she turned her motion into a spin, like a ballerina. Her Victorian dress billowed out around her. Light and darkness shifted and she stood almost naked. The dress had become a close hugging set of lingerie, the same colour and somehow keeping the same charm and style as the dress.

The bra hugged her breasts. They weren't as large as most of the girls in the other room but perfectly formed. The cup finished just below her nipples, which were hid only by a lacy frill. Her panties clung tightly to her sex. Above, her stomach was hard and flat. Below, her legs shot out, long and toned like an athletes.

She fell back onto the bed and hit with a puff of noise, as the sheets shifted. She stared at me with her exotic brown eyes from on her back and raised one hand, her index finger beckoning me forward.

I didn't need to be asked twice.

I stumbled forward, trying to unbutton my shirt and slip out of my trousers at the same time. As it was, I managed about half of both by the time I reached the bed and leaped a top her.

Our lips met and lightning crackled within her. She opened her mouth for me and I kissed her as deep as I could. My tongue claimed her mouth and a moment later hers did mine.

As we embraced I finished doffing my clothes. I kicked my trousers off the end of the bed and broke our kiss for a moment to completely take off my shirt. She lay under me, breathing deep, her skin flushed, the pupils of her eyes wide and aroused. Her breasts heaved with each breath she took.

"Take me," she said with words and body language both, and her eyes showed something I couldn't quite identify, like manic resolve welded with erotic passion. I dove right back in, out lips mashing together.

The next piece of clothing to go was her bra. I flicked the catch and ripped it off her breasts. It left her nipples completely exposed, small but hard and very very pink.

I broke the kiss and sucked her right nipple into my mouth. She tasted fantastic, her skin crackling on my tongue as if spiced.

Her long fingers and shark nails found my head and ran tracks through my hair. "Suck my tit," she said. "Suck my fucking tit!"

I switched nipples and sucked the other one into my mouth.

"Yeah, that's it," she muttered, her eyes closed. "Harder. Harder I said! Now bite, just a bit."

What's a guy to do? I set my teeth against her flesh and pushed down.

She hissed air between her teeth. "Yes. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Her hips ground under me and she pulled my hair so hard it hurt. "Now fuck me. I need your cock."

I pulled away from her breast and loosed my impossibly hard cock from my boxers. Lyra's panties still guarded her sex but they were petty sheer. I grabbed them and ripped them right off. They fell to the ground, tattered purple scraps.

Her sex lay revealed. Her lips were puffy and red and her clit pocked out from under its hood. I sunk into her depths in one long thrust.

"Oh God, that's good," she moaned. "So big."

She was probably playing it up but I bought into it all the same. Cock and pride both swelling, I began thrusting in and out of her. Her breasts jerked and danced with every hit.

"Fuck my cunt," she said. "Fuck my God damn cunt!"

Said cunt was a red hot vice. Her muscles gripped down with incredible pressure. I pistoned in and out as I looked down at her face, which was screwed up with pleasure. Part of her updo had fallen apart and locks of blonde hair lay wild on the indigo pillow beneath her head. My cock felt like a single great pleasure nerve which never stopped humming. Her ankles locked behind my ass and lent power to my every stroke.

Her chest heaved and her eyes met mine, so wild and full of passion. Her lips were open wide, and she moved her tongue as if sucking an invisible dick.

"Mmm you like this don't you," she moaned. She licked her lips. "Do you like my cunt? Do you like the cunt you bought and paid for? I'm your whore. I'm your whore for all tonight, until you wake up. What are you going to do with me? Will you fuck me until I'm bruised and can't walk straight? Will you make me cum until I can't remember my own name? Will you make me suck your cock? Will you stick it up my ass?" She bucked her hips at the last, driving my cock deep into her and scraping the blood-filled head against her clutching walls.

I kissed her. It was impossible not to. I threw myself against her pouting lips so hard I bruised us both. Despite that, she kept talking - speaking muffled, incomprehensible but no doubt obscene words into my mouth even as she returned my kiss with equal passion.

Heat rolled off her body as she writhed under me. Her every muscle and inch of skin felt alive, as if heightened to the highest possible state of alertness and life. She flushed red wherever I so much as touched her. I ran my hands over her shapely breasts, feeling her heavenly soft skin. Almost-crimson trails followed my fingers and her skin felt electric.

"Yes, yes," she panted. "So close. Pound my cunt. Pound it!" One of her hands rubbed her sex, just above our joining, but it was clear she needed something from me too.

My balls and cock tightened but I held back my release with gritted teeth. I redouble my effort and she exploded under me. "Yes!" she screamed as her cunt spasmed around my cock. She bit down on her lip, teeth pressing deep into the pouty flesh, and her ankles clamped against my ass.

I kept pounding, a dozen more strokes, then it was my turn to erupt. I spent myself in her, five long shots. Fire ran from me and into her, so powerful it made my balls ache at its absence.

I might be sated but she wasn't. Lyra scrambled out from under me and twisted around. My cock disappeared between her lips and into her mouth. She moaned and the vibrations sunk directly into my cock.

The complex knots of her updo had mostly dissolved by this point and an untidy mop of white-blonde hair bobbed up and down on my crotch. It felt incredible. She knew how to use her tongue, teasing and pleasuring my cock even as it tried to wilt. Her cheeks hollowed as she applied suction and, despite my explosive orgasm, I felt myself getting hard again.

She twisted her head and looked up at me. Her eyes sparkled and she slowly drew back. Centimetre by centimetre, my cock appeared out of her mouth, wet with spit and her juices. The fat purple head came last and appeared with a pop. It lay propped against her face, a violent manly thing juxtaposed against her womanly perfection.

Her lips moved and scraped against my cock as she soundlessly said a few words. She smiled wickedly and said it again, this time aloud. "Fuck my ass."

A rock lodged in my throat. I gulped. Anal sex was something I'd never tried, either giving or receiving. She spun around and settled onto all fours, her tight ass in the air. She looked over one shoulder and all but growled at me.

I shuffled forward and laid my hands on her hips, feeling the taught flesh, still radiating heat from our earlier passions. "Don't I need lube or something?" I asked.

"This is Dream," she said. "Now fucking fuck me."

I fucked her. Her ass lacked the vice like volcanic grip of her cunt but was tight all the same. I slowly drove myself forward and then pulled back.

"Yes," she moaned. "Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck my ass."

I pounded harder, driving forward so her body shook and waves of motion ran through her tits. The line of her back had a perfect curve, drawing the eye from the nape of her neck to the heart shape of her ass. She was beautiful; she was beyond beautiful. Lyra was by far the most erotic, sensual and fuckable woman I'd ever met.

For all that I'd already cum once, my second eruption wasn't long coming. With one final, body shaking, ass clenching thrust, I bottomed out inside her and erupted into her ass. Hot cum shot into her body and when I at last finished, I collapsed down on top of her, my weight pushing her down into the cloudlike cushion of the bed. I could hear her breathing, deep and throating. I could feel her heart beat, powerful against my chest. Against those lullabies, I slept.

---

I awoke the next morning, lying tangled in the sheets atop the four post bed in Somnus House. For a long while I just lay there, staring at the canopy-ceiling and the carved support posts. Strange memories played through my mind. I remembered everything from the night before - the Brothel on the Sea of Dream, Lyra, the incredible sex, all of it. Every moment and event was indelibly marked into my brain, far deeper than any dream. But it had to be a dream, right? Despite Cassius Smyth and his crazy esoteric studies, the Sea of Dream couldn’t be real.

I felt something clutched in my palm. I shuffled my back up the backboard and opened my hand. The clay coin, the dream token, was dust. I turned my hand over and powdered clay fell in a slow stream onto the white sheets, where it pooled.

Lyra had claimed the Brothel back the value of the coins with a night of pleasure. Could this be the result of spending it? My mind went to the locked lacquered box in the hidden room. I had eleven more coins to spend and, dream or not, I knew I would spend them. My bid in the estate auction now seemed a very minor price.

The End

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