In a Dream
In a Dream
Rosaria, who had collapsed into sleep from sheer exhaustion, could not wake in the end. Her body had not an ounce of strength left, and her consciousness had been forcibly shut down and put to rest. It was a state no different from being made to faint against her will, and combined with Rosaria's natural weakness for sleep, no matter how distressed she became, she couldn't bring herself to wake.
For Canaria, it was a windfall. Rosaria, who had fallen into a deep slumber in unconsciousness, was in a situation where she couldn't wake even if she wanted to. It was one of the few chances Canaria had to project her own desires onto her to her heart's content. The usual Rosaria would be embarrassed and resist, telling her to stop, but in this state, she would accept even those actions without resistance.
Before she knew it, a long time had passed since merely embracing her from behind had ceased to be enough. Because, after all, the front was so much more fun to tease. Rosaria, who had fallen asleep with her power completely off and had barely recharged enough for just one tiny light to turn on, was in a state with only a hint of sensation remaining, unable to even open her eyes, and was being toyed with even within her dreams.
Of course, that dream was indeed an illusion painted by the sensations of reality. The gentle teasing of Canaria's touch, lips, and the tickling of her tongue traveled up along the electrodes, blooming into sensation and painting that sensation into a dream. So, thanks to that, Rosaria was continuously moaning, letting out warm breaths.
"...Haaht."
Rosaria's body trembled. The haze of pleasure, blooming from the gradually deepening sensation, was filling her head. As the overly realistic dream sensation became so vivid, Rosaria's sleep talking began to grow clearer. Yet, even so, she did not open her eyes.
It was because Canaria withdrew her touch whenever Rosaria began to wake. Since in Rosaria's current state, if her heated mind and body calmed down, she would faint again, Canaria was skillfully adjusting the cycle of rising and falling sensations, preventing Rosaria from waking.
Half-stripped clothes,
specific areas damply wet,
and flushed cheeks and shoulders.
It was Rosaria being toyed with in both dream and reality.
The perpetrator was, of course, Canaria.
Canaria in the dream acted exactly like Canaria in reality.
It wasn't a lucid dream, but the sensations were so vivid that the Rosaria in the dream could only take it in a daze. Because, just like reality, her arms and legs were in a state where she had no strength and couldn't move them. Even as she was being softly caressed and licked here and there, lightly scratched, or pulled up and down to provoke pleasure, Rosaria could not resist.
And at moments like that, a sweet voice occasionally reached her.
"...If you want to go, please tell me."
-...If you want to go, tell me, Rosaria.
Because reality and the dream were overlapping.
Her mind went blank at that voice, which seemed to whisper into both ears.
The dream deepened, and Rosaria drifted further away into that sweetness.
But until the very end, she did not open her mouth.
...It was her last shred of pride.
Rosaria was Rosaria.
A request like that was only to be made at the very end.
When her body felt like it was going to burst,
when her mind crumbled from the tickling,
when her soul was dyed pink.
It was a request only made at such a final moment, and so.
Rosaria gritted her teeth and endured it.
And because the appearance in the dream was reflected in reality,
Canaria, who had been relentlessly teasing Rosaria, saw that reaction. It was a signal Rosaria didn't know about, but Canaria did. While it was a sign of endurance, it was also proof that she was truly driven to the very edge. If she touched her just a little more here, Rosaria would be pushed to the stage of begging.
"...I should stop the teasing around here."
Canaria placed a final kiss on her flushed cheek. After all, anything more was an act that required Rosaria's will. Even though they were engaged, she didn't want to cross the line. And above all, the fact that Canaria herself was quite satisfied was a big factor. The charging was finished, so she wouldn't consume any more. So, she laid the faintly trembling Rosaria down comfortably and looked at the wind-up clock she had brought back as a souvenir.
An hour had passed. She had been so absorbed that she hadn't realized so much time had gone by. At the same time, a small curiosity flickered past, so Canaria moved her hand toward the lower part of Rosaria, who was breathing out heated sighs. The result of an hour of teasing was trickling down stickily. Canaria touched it with her finger.
It was warm and slippery.
Thinking it was Rosaria's, there was nothing better...
"...What am I to do if you feel it even in your sleep?"
Her emotions began to surge.
A sense of elation and exultation welled up.
And then, she instinctively licked it.
A fog, something akin to a sense of moral depravity, bloomed.
At the same time, Rosaria's face entered her vision.
The sight of her asleep, letting out rough "haah..." breaths.
Her body trembling slightly as she murmured the process of the dream.
She tossed and turned, calming her heated body.
Unaware that the more she did, the more her peculiar, provocative scent was scattered about.
She nuzzled her damp hair against the pillow.
Even the sound of the thin fabric brushing against the bed was stimulating.
"...Pervert."
It was a word aimed at herself,
and a word aimed at the Rosaria before her eyes.
The one who gave in to temptation,
and the one who tempted them.
Canaria thought they were both equally perverts.
Of course, Rosaria would feel wronged if she heard that.
But that was a story to bring to a court of law.
It was not a story meant for the bed.
It was the fault of the thoroughly disheveled Rosaria.
The wicked Saintess Canaria concluded it so.
Even though she had done the teasing, a verdict of not guilty was handed down.
But fortunately, she hadn't abandoned that much of her conscience.
She thought that, by her own estimation, she also shared some of the fault. And she thought she shouldn't cross the line any further than this... but the sticky sensation on her fingers and the taste of the impurity she had just licked slightly numbed her reason.
Canaria reached her hand toward that forbidden absolute territory. Telling herself it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, she let her naughty hand trespass just slightly into that territory, only enough to dampen the skirt of the nightgown a little. This time, a sense of sin and guilt, born from the feeling of truly committing a crime, welled up.
Nevertheless, her numbed reason transformed that into excitement. With a pounding heart, having even forgotten to breathe, Canaria slowly moved her hand.
...And then, it was the moment her hand touched beyond Rosaria's underwear.
"Haaht...!"
The moment she touched, Rosaria moaned.
That sound flashed through Canaria's mind like thunder.
At the same time, Rosaria trembled like mad and bit her lip.
A sensation of floating ever so slightly was felt. However, because that body had been thoroughly tormented for an hour... the unfamiliar sensation that visited that softly loosened and heated body became an unparalleled, massive wave that swept through her mind and became a huge impact.
"...Rosaria?"
Canaria called that name.
Rosaria's breathing grew even rougher.
Yet, she did not open her eyes.
Teardrops like beads trickled down her cheeks.
...Fortunately, Rosaria hadn't woken from her sleep.
Canaria stopped her mischief at that point and lay down beside her.
Anyhow, the night was deep now.
Canaria embraced Rosaria's thoroughly heated, warm body.
The warmth, which matched the slightly chilly temperature, was lovely.
And so, she sought sleep like that, beside her.
Using the soft scent of her skin and her breath as a sleeping pill.
The demon who had finished her teasing closed her eyes beside her.
Soon, she headed toward a dream that continued the pleasant reality.
*
After some time had passed.
With a groggy feeling, Rosaria's consciousness returned.
The contents of the dream, however faintly remaining, filled her head.
Canaria, wearing the beautiful dress she had seen that day.
And a dream of committing licentious acts with her that were hard to even speak of.
Rosaria agonized over that first provocative dream she had ever had.
"...Ugh."
A surge of shame.
Yet the pleasure had been happy.
She hated herself for not resisting even though it was just a dream, when she could have.
She was tormented by herself, who had just accepted everything and done nothing but pant.
At the same time, it was hard to look at Canaria, who was asleep while holding her tightly. Because a hazy afterimage of it remained, even if she couldn't clearly remember. On top of that, a feeling lingered in her body, as if a pleasure mixed with an indescribable sense of depravity had branded its existence onto her.
Rosaria was ashamed of that unfamiliar sensation she felt for the first time.
And then, she reproached herself inwardly.
'...I'm trash.'
A dream was a shadow of the unconscious, expressing one's fantasies.
Then, didn't that mean the dream she had was what she herself wished for?
...Thinking that way made her terribly embarrassed and ashamed.
Enough to even stir up a strange sense of self-loathing.
...Of course, only Canaria knew the truth of it.
But Rosaria thought shamefully of her own inner self.
How full of earthly desires must she be, to have such a dream?
She berated herself and let out a sigh.
"...Rosaria."
Rosaria's face was thoroughly stained with the red proof born of shame, to the point where she couldn't muster the courage to face Canaria, who was calling her name and sleep-talking from behind.
And then, she stared blankly at the room, where darkness had settled.
...At the same time, Rosaria became aware of her own wet lower half.
She instinctively stopped her own hand from heading there.
Soon, she thought to herself.
'...Yeah.'
Once she slept and woke up, she would be fine.
Thinking that, she ignored her body and mind, which were cooling down after having been heated up.
The cause of it all was sleeping soundly behind her, blissfully unaware... but regrettably, the darkest place is under the candlestick, so all Rosaria could do was reproach herself, close her eyes with difficulty, and try for a second sleep.
...Fortunately, this time, Rosaria slept deeply without having any dreams at all.