1. Synthetic Hours


    Date: 8/28/2015, Categories: Fantasy & Sci-Fi, Author: TheScheherezadeFeint, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    others. A doctor who dreamed of toying with his patients. A congresswoman with her mistress. As the playful thoughts of others danced across the forefront of her vision, Violet's fingers played gently over her panties. Finally, massaging gently, Violet fell asleep. --- She found herself in the quietest, loneliest place she'd ever known. It was perfect. Freezing, but perfect. The snow stretched on as far as her eyes could see, and glistened in the sun. Trees stood inside the garden walls. They were naked, and colder than she, but steadfast in their elegance. With leaves of icicles, they sparkled and shone like crystal chandeliers, only a thousand times more beautiful. A thick layer of snow rested atop the stone walls surrounding the garden. Violet stepped onto a frozen pond, barefoot. The ice seemed to trickle up her legs as she moved. As she looked down she saw great fish swimming in the water beneath it, brightly colored, and catching the light, awaiting release. A great, iron statue stood in the garden. Robed and hooded, he sat with raised arms, and flat palms. Smiling then, she leaped, grabbed hold of his elbow, and took two long strides up his torso to propel herself onto his long forearm, where she walked into his hand. Knowing she could not do so made no difference. Violet knew she was dreaming. This was her garden, in winter. She sat, first into half lotus, then curled her other leg into full, and gazed out over the snowy mountainscape. She breathed in the frigid ...
    atmosphere through her nose. What she exhaled through her mouth steamed, vaporous like a dragon 's breath in the ice air, heated from within. Now that she could see her surroundings, Violet closed her eyes, and shut it all out. Her breath remained deep and steady, as she listened to the wind travel between the peaks, even as she felt it cut between her clothes and the bareness of her flesh. She could feel her nipples harden at the gentle lick of the frozen breeze. The freezing iron beneath her passed straight through the fabric to her thighs, but she maintained focus. Violet imagined that the cold slowed down the particles of her thoughts, until they condensed, stopped, froze. Once frozen, a mind can be thawed again, melted. Miranda called it defibrillating her unconscious. Violet stayed there, in steady emptiness until the garden began to disappear, the mountains around her dissolving to make way for the next dream. At first everything fluttered, then the colors of the world seemed to run, until it blended into one darkness. Whatever she dreamed of next she remembered only as a brief series of images, but, purely the work of her subconscious mind, it was perfect bliss to someone like her. --- Abruptly, Violet was unwelcomely jarred back to consciousness by her phone. Miranda was calling. She ignored her and tried to get more sleep, but to no avail. When she turned and looked, there was a text that read: Come party! We're at the Vault. It wasn't a terrible idea. She was well ...
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