second butterful dreams
Warnings: Blood and implied whipping
Effects: sharp pains on the back
When the dream begins, there is a lovely collection of butterfly specimens up on a wall. It is clear they where mounted with care and love, and well taken care of. This might be a calming view if there wasn't dread in your heart Something that is making you hold your breath at the moment. I man's calm voice calls out from behind you.
"Bite back your cries, Never allow the pain to show on your face. ignore it."
You breath in as a sound rings out in the air and the this leather rips down your back. The first strike always hurts the most. You think about it it before hand, try to remember so it's not so much of a surprise, but it never helps. It still takes you by surprise.
"Concentrate" the voice chides you for the reaction as the sound rings out again and the pain falls onto your back again. The voice doesn't rise, but it is firm.
Again and again the sound rings out, followed by pain. Soon there are strikes of blood falling across the butterfly frames. You watch as the perfect butterflies are stained with red. The voice becomes a chant in your head telling you not to eact, Don't make a sound. The entire time you are silent, watching as the butterflies are covered by the blood, your back throbbing with pain.
Effects: sharp pains on the back
When the dream begins, there is a lovely collection of butterfly specimens up on a wall. It is clear they where mounted with care and love, and well taken care of. This might be a calming view if there wasn't dread in your heart Something that is making you hold your breath at the moment. I man's calm voice calls out from behind you.
"Bite back your cries, Never allow the pain to show on your face. ignore it."
You breath in as a sound rings out in the air and the this leather rips down your back. The first strike always hurts the most. You think about it it before hand, try to remember so it's not so much of a surprise, but it never helps. It still takes you by surprise.
"Concentrate" the voice chides you for the reaction as the sound rings out again and the pain falls onto your back again. The voice doesn't rise, but it is firm.
Again and again the sound rings out, followed by pain. Soon there are strikes of blood falling across the butterfly frames. You watch as the perfect butterflies are stained with red. The voice becomes a chant in your head telling you not to eact, Don't make a sound. The entire time you are silent, watching as the butterflies are covered by the blood, your back throbbing with pain.