BDSM

During the first week of the semester, I frequently dreamed of two men. Both of them claimed to be my boyfriend.

I woke up every morning with my entire body aching, so I went to see a psychiatrist.

“It’s just too much stress. Don’t be nervous.”

He gave me a mild smile and prescribed some medication. “Take these, and you’ll fall asleep much earlier.”

Later, I realized the dreams were only getting longer.

In the dream, the other man pinned my hands down and chuckled.

“I told you to keep the dosage small. If it lasts too long, she won’t be able to handle it.”

By day, my straight roommate and I are sworn enemies.

By night, I secretly write slash fanfiction about the two of us.

[He slowly closed his eyes, his soft lips pressing against mine…]

That very night, in my dreams, we reenacted the exact scene from my story.

Later, I discovered that whatever I wrote, I would dream about that night.

I became addicted to it, losing myself in the fantasies until there was no turning back.

Still, I always made sure to maintain a sense of propriety, never daring to go too far or truly offend him.

Until one day, I finally plucked up the courage to reach out and touch my roommate in the dream.

The next morning, the look in his eyes when he turned to me was dark and unreadable.

“What’s the point of just dreaming?” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward him.

It turned out that I wasn’t the only one; he had been having those dreams too.

0

My sister is dead. She committed suicide for a man.

When I was sorting through her belongings, I found a pair of handcuffs and some photographs.

In the photos, she was completely naked, her body covered in bruises.

A rush of blood surged through me, my whole body turned cold, and I was instantly overwhelmed by an indescribable terror and confusion.

But I didn’t know yet that the person who started all this had no intention of stopping.

And I was his next target.