Chapter 1: ESTE His Amusement

I woke up to a dream.

A blurry vision, of haze, that sent a certain tingling sensation down to my heart.

My heart. 

My fingers work their way up slowly, tracing my stomach, the bump of my scar and finally my breast. 

They move sideways and up and down in a rhythm instilled through too much practice.

The thumb and the index work together to circle my now hardened nipple, teasing it and moving onto my right boob.

The right one, they pinch tightly and then go back to rubbing.

All the while, I am staring up at the white ceiling I had painted yellow yesterday.

It looks good in white. Maybe I'll repaint it when I wake up.

I look down at my now naked body, the blanket tossed on the floor and then watch my hand now snake it's way downwards.

My other hand, the one with the watch I had pawned off last week gleams in the light- the moonlight that had floated in without permission.

My un-watched hand reaches my vagina and strokes the pubic hair, drawing circles on my pussy.

Pretty watch it was- passed down from my mother's father.

My grandfather.

Suddenly the moonlight is no longer present and a huge shadow falls over my sticky hand that dug in between my legs.

I look over and  see my grandfather's face in the window.

A balding man, his forehead marked with age, history.

We stare at each other and then he looks at how my index finger fondled my bud, cooperating with my thumb to pinch it delicately. 

I let out a moan. 

Do I make sound sound in real life?

Encouraged, my thumb rubs against my labia while my middle finger doves in.

The room is filled with my moans.

My grandfather says something to me but the screams of pleasure from my mouth covers them up.

He soon leaves and the room is based in orange light. 

Spotlight, definitely.

My breath is rapid now, and short. 

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My legs subconsciously open wonder as my middle finger goes in and out, in and out, drenching my sheets with my juices. 

I just changed them today and now they're soiled. Great. 

But my finger doesn't care whether the sheets are new, it simple wants dominance and it invites it's other friends too. 

The index and the ring finger. 

Three fingers stabbing in and against my opening. 

A sweet scent floats in the air and I close my eyes to let out my tears, but they don't stop. 

They don't stop.

The spotlight grows brighter and I hear laughter. 

Click. 

Click. 

Why did I punch that reported? He was simply doing his job, poor thing. 

I glance over at the opposite wall and I see my mother smiling down at me. 

I memorize her smile till I realize she was still a picture framed in the glass he had bought. 

Flashes of bright light blinds me and I cringe back but they go on and on. 

My fingers now working with urgency, going in and out, in and out, plunging into my vagina. It's wall sucked onto them tightly, not willing to let them go free, wanting to crush them- punish them- just then and there.

But this simply brings more pleasure and soon I reach my climax, the highest point of ecstasy. 

"Ah...ah...ah."

I come.

The flashes die, the spotlight disappeared and my un-watched hand goes back to it's original place on the bed and remains completely still. 

It's silent now, the room and unmoving, my body. 

Move. I urge my hand- the one with the watch, but it remains stationary. Please. Please. Please.

And then just before my eyes, the darkness dissipates, my watch disappears, my bed sheets dries and my ceiling is yellow.

I catch the reflection of my bruised, cut body next to my mother's unceasing smile.

And the cloth that hung in the middle of the room.

I remember, while I still can, of a promise someone made to me- of a land where no one needs to be given up. 

Where no one would give them up.

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