What follows is the story of Cassie after Rene’s adventures at Mardi Gras.
http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=22735
Teresa’s home was just as elegant as Roget and Rachael’s but more dated and less modern. The main gallery was accessed by wide brick stairs and wrapped around the front of the home nearly ten feet above the manicured lawn. The ferns which hung above the rail were luxurious as they draped lazily towards the porch rail. From the street the Live Oaks framed the entire scene behind the low brick wall supporting the wrought iron fence.
Inside the foyer was wide and paneled giving way to the broad staircase. Cassies bags where brought to the third floor apartment which contained a large bed which required a stool to access. In addition to a large clawfoot tub there was a glass shower and an adjacent sitting room which made no attempt to hide the sexually related objects and restraints that were displayed like ordinary pictures and accessories.
Teresa’s lifestyle was adventurous to say the least and after Cassie’s brief turn as the master, Teresa had returned to her more dominant role. Cassie suspected that Teresa’s sexual cravings ebbed and flowed and for the moment she was Teresa’s partner. Cassie knew that she was just a passing fancy but she was going to play this to the hilt. Living in the lap of luxury with Teresa’s stable of lovers was too good to pass up.
The first week was a blur of activity as Teresa was insatiable and she and Cassie spent most days in various stages of undress engaged in the most pleasurable of activities. Each night Cassie would bring two new lovers to her bedroom to cater to her most base desires before they would leave her exahusted but satisified.
But then the dreams began. At first Cassie would wake with a start, sweating and flushed. The emotions and touch of her lovers rushing back, but different, strange, cold
Cassie Dreams
Re: Cassie Dreams
The mad rush of bodies stopped after a week when Teresa announced she was leaving for a short trip. Since she said nothing more, Cassie felt free to stay; the house was full of servants who assumed she was now the lady of the house. The dreams continued, although they weren’t really dreams. When she awoke Cassie could remember nothing, but there were intense feelings, sexual feelings even though she had spent the night alone.
After a few days during morning coffee, Cassie asked Maggie the cook to tell her about the home, was this Teresa’s family home? “No mam, this is a very old place that was vacant for many years before she bought it. I grew up a few blocks away and we always thought this place was haunted.”
That night Cassie filled her bathroom with candles and lounged in the tub with a glass of wine. The warm water caressed her skin and the wine worked its magic as her thoughts drifted. She traced her nails along the inside of her thigh and made herself shudder as a warm feeling spread across her loins, noticeable even submerged in water.
Almost on its own her hand squeezed her breast and made its way down her stomach where it firmly grasped her mound. Cassie felt her fingers seeking access and sat up in the tub as a chill ran up her spine. Jumping from the tub she stood naked and dripping in the candlelight as an uncontrollable feeling of lust and desire overwhelmed her.
Lying in her bed wrapped in towels and under the blanket Cass finished the bottle of wine and convinced herself that this was just her imagination. A result of three weeks of debauchery and decadence. The mystic of New Orleans. It was nothing.
As the wine took hold Cass began to relax and the warmth of the bed enveloped her and she drifted off to sleep … and dreamed.
The forest was beautiful with soft grass shaded by trees with white bark and greygreen silver leaves. The gossamer she wore was belted at the waist and ankles but was not really pants. Her stomach was bare and her breast were covered with a stole of fur. She was surrounded by identical girls who waited on her and brought her wine and sweets. Cass felt like she was floating.
Her clothes vanished and Cass was naked in a clearing, the sun faintly warming her skin. Her maidens sat her on a large padded stool and brushed her hair then laid her down and poured warm scented oil on the base of her neck. Cass felt the oil moving down her back till it pooled in the nave at the base of her ass before finding its way to the valley between her cheeks. Eight hands began massaging the oil into her shoulders and back, then her legs and feet, and in her dream Cass was falling asleep; so relaxed that she did not notice that she was being shackled to the stool.
Pulled to her knees on the stool Cass oil was again poured onto her and she felt it pass her anus and run between her lips. The massage that ensued insured that Cass was well lubricated as well as aroused. Looking between her thighs Cass saw a satyr moving towards her with a huge erection and as she squirmed the maidens guided him into her.
On her bed Cass had rolled to her knees and pushed her breast into the mattress mimicking her plight in her dream. With each lunge she emitted a low grunt. In her mind she saw the approach of another man with a bull’s head and another wearing the head of a horse, and a lion. Each in turn, again and again they moved between her thighs yet she could not cum. On the bed Cass awoke full aware that she was being taken and struggled to move her hand so that the tension in her loins could be released, but as in her dream, Cass was shackled to the bed by unseen chains and could not move from her prostrate position.
In her mind’s eye Cassie saw herself chained to the stool with the man in the bull’s head driving himself into her. With a final lunge he roared and Cassie on her bed joined in the chorus her relief flowing down her legs as she collapsed released from her all too real chains.
“Maggie it felt so real, but it had to be a dream.” Cass said as she sat drinking coffee on the veranda. “I don’t know Miss C, this strong, even more Miss T’s foolishness and stuff. There is a place on Tchoupitoulas. You need to go there after lunch.”
After a few days during morning coffee, Cassie asked Maggie the cook to tell her about the home, was this Teresa’s family home? “No mam, this is a very old place that was vacant for many years before she bought it. I grew up a few blocks away and we always thought this place was haunted.”
That night Cassie filled her bathroom with candles and lounged in the tub with a glass of wine. The warm water caressed her skin and the wine worked its magic as her thoughts drifted. She traced her nails along the inside of her thigh and made herself shudder as a warm feeling spread across her loins, noticeable even submerged in water.
Almost on its own her hand squeezed her breast and made its way down her stomach where it firmly grasped her mound. Cassie felt her fingers seeking access and sat up in the tub as a chill ran up her spine. Jumping from the tub she stood naked and dripping in the candlelight as an uncontrollable feeling of lust and desire overwhelmed her.
Lying in her bed wrapped in towels and under the blanket Cass finished the bottle of wine and convinced herself that this was just her imagination. A result of three weeks of debauchery and decadence. The mystic of New Orleans. It was nothing.
As the wine took hold Cass began to relax and the warmth of the bed enveloped her and she drifted off to sleep … and dreamed.
The forest was beautiful with soft grass shaded by trees with white bark and greygreen silver leaves. The gossamer she wore was belted at the waist and ankles but was not really pants. Her stomach was bare and her breast were covered with a stole of fur. She was surrounded by identical girls who waited on her and brought her wine and sweets. Cass felt like she was floating.
Her clothes vanished and Cass was naked in a clearing, the sun faintly warming her skin. Her maidens sat her on a large padded stool and brushed her hair then laid her down and poured warm scented oil on the base of her neck. Cass felt the oil moving down her back till it pooled in the nave at the base of her ass before finding its way to the valley between her cheeks. Eight hands began massaging the oil into her shoulders and back, then her legs and feet, and in her dream Cass was falling asleep; so relaxed that she did not notice that she was being shackled to the stool.
Pulled to her knees on the stool Cass oil was again poured onto her and she felt it pass her anus and run between her lips. The massage that ensued insured that Cass was well lubricated as well as aroused. Looking between her thighs Cass saw a satyr moving towards her with a huge erection and as she squirmed the maidens guided him into her.
On her bed Cass had rolled to her knees and pushed her breast into the mattress mimicking her plight in her dream. With each lunge she emitted a low grunt. In her mind she saw the approach of another man with a bull’s head and another wearing the head of a horse, and a lion. Each in turn, again and again they moved between her thighs yet she could not cum. On the bed Cass awoke full aware that she was being taken and struggled to move her hand so that the tension in her loins could be released, but as in her dream, Cass was shackled to the bed by unseen chains and could not move from her prostrate position.
In her mind’s eye Cassie saw herself chained to the stool with the man in the bull’s head driving himself into her. With a final lunge he roared and Cassie on her bed joined in the chorus her relief flowing down her legs as she collapsed released from her all too real chains.
“Maggie it felt so real, but it had to be a dream.” Cass said as she sat drinking coffee on the veranda. “I don’t know Miss C, this strong, even more Miss T’s foolishness and stuff. There is a place on Tchoupitoulas. You need to go there after lunch.”
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our_cass
Re: Cassie Dreams
wow, very hot, making me wet on a Saturday afternoon. All is quite good, I can't wait for the next installment. thanks Zoe!
Re: Cassie Dreams
Sitting in the shop on Tchoupitoulas did not disappoint either in the image projected from the street or the atmosphere once inside. The feeling was that I had stepped back in time; to a period sometime in the mid 1800's and before me sat what was then known as a “free woman of color.” She appeared aged and ageless at the same time as her skin was flawless ad smooth but exceedingly old. Maggie had given me her grandmother’s name to drop, and that simple introduction appeared to carry a message.
As I explained the purpose of my visit she asked me to describe my dream and to my surprise I was embarrassed to disclose the content of my dreams. In the past few weeks had been repeatedly taken by numerous men before hundreds of men and women but admitting to having one of the most intense orgasms of my life under these circumstances was completely disarming.
Sensing my discomfort she poured me a cup of tea which had an unusual flavor and as I expected a calming influence; perhaps a little more than calming. She then very causally began discussing my adventures with Teresa which made me realize that the recent activities involving the Krew were apparently disclosed and discussed amongst those who assisted the members in putting on such an elaborate production. The look on my face as she described by wantonness must have conveyed my shock, and she assured me that her knowledge and that of her informants was exclusive, confidential and entirely necessary.
My impression from our conversation was that I was not the first lady to experience these “visitors” after imbibing in what she called the not so subtle pleasantries. Images of all of the stories about the darker side of New Orleans came into full focus, voodoo and vampires; Lestat as depicted in the movies. “No child. All of the strange and wonderful things here start in your own mind.” She said. “You let them in, but until I know who ... well” her voice trailed off.
As I explained the purpose of my visit she asked me to describe my dream and to my surprise I was embarrassed to disclose the content of my dreams. In the past few weeks had been repeatedly taken by numerous men before hundreds of men and women but admitting to having one of the most intense orgasms of my life under these circumstances was completely disarming.
Sensing my discomfort she poured me a cup of tea which had an unusual flavor and as I expected a calming influence; perhaps a little more than calming. She then very causally began discussing my adventures with Teresa which made me realize that the recent activities involving the Krew were apparently disclosed and discussed amongst those who assisted the members in putting on such an elaborate production. The look on my face as she described by wantonness must have conveyed my shock, and she assured me that her knowledge and that of her informants was exclusive, confidential and entirely necessary.
My impression from our conversation was that I was not the first lady to experience these “visitors” after imbibing in what she called the not so subtle pleasantries. Images of all of the stories about the darker side of New Orleans came into full focus, voodoo and vampires; Lestat as depicted in the movies. “No child. All of the strange and wonderful things here start in your own mind.” She said. “You let them in, but until I know who ... well” her voice trailed off.
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our_cass
Re: Cassie Dreams
OOH - to have so many know about the adventures and the visits in the night. I love to wake up to a soaked pussy having orgasmed in my dreams!