Bed and dreams

You're feeling in need of some rest, and while a visit to the pretty nurse has some appeal, you're not sure that yawning while you're sharing a 'glass of something' would give the best impression. With a smile and a promise to yourself to talk to her tomorrow you pick up the bag on the floor before opening your door and stepping in.

You toss the note on your desk and open the bag to find some cookies and another note from Nurse Wulf, reading simply _"Enjoy! Madison." _Smiling, you take a bite of one, and finding it delicious, finish it in a couple of bites before picking up a second and carrying it into your bedroom.

There, you finish the second cookie while you strip your clothes off and step into the shower, letting the needles of hot water scour the day away. Not for the first time you wonder if you're completely out of your depth at Pink Rose, and wonder if you should pack in the assignment.

But you've never quit anything, you remind yourself. Never. Somebody once told you that 'when you're going through Hell, keep going' and the words have stuck with you. You step out of the shower, towelling yourself dry with renewed resolve to stay the course, even as you glance at the bathroom wall that divides your shower stall from Diana's.

You shake your head, trying to put the pretty headmistress out of your thoughts, telling yourself that you should have fucked her out of your consciousness with the students you banged today. Your cock starts to thicken, letting you know that you can't fool it, that you still want Diana, want her willing and eager and excited in your bed.

"For God's sake Hawk you're like a horny teenager," you mutter to yourself as you finish drying and climb into bed, flicking the light off.

As usual you fall asleep within seconds of your head hitting the pillow. You seldom dream, but tonight you find yourself in a surreal landscape that blends your past with your present. The stately granite buildings of Pink Rose morph into the shell battered ruins of Kabul, the pretty schoolgirls in uniform into frightened refugees, your khakis and button-down shirts into camo gear and weaponry. The images shift back and forth and back again as you move through rubble strewn streets that turn to manicured lawns, from halls of learning to bomb wrecked buildings.

In your dream you are alone, searching for something. Something important, but something indistinct and elusive. You move carefully through the polished halls of the main building, your weapon at the ready, wary of ambush. You open a door and step into a shattered house, the ceiling caved in, the hot sun beating down. Moving through that rubble you find yourself at another door, this one changing to the heavy wooden door of the Headmistress' office. You raise your fist to knock, then remember you are in a combat zone and push the door open, your weapon ready. A second door, partly open lies ahead of you, and the sounds of movement reach your ears.

You push that door open to be met with the sight of young women, dozens of them, some in the uniforms of Pink Rose, others in Afghan dress. They look at you with shock and dismay and rising fear, their faces those of students and faculty, regardless of their clothes. They shriek in panic, surging towards the door even as you stand in it, driven mad by their terror of you and their need to escape. They're all there, Rose and Chanel and Tamara and Monica and Gabrielle and Margot and Valerie, a churn of femininity determined to flee the horror you represent.

You call out, trying to reassure them, but it only drives them more frantic. You try to grab them, to slow their frenzy, to explain that you mean no harm, but they ignore you, their faces ugly with terror, clawing past you. Slinging your weapon, you reach out with both hands, determined to make at least one frantic girl understand that you are a savior not a threat.

Your hands grasp one, her Afghan robes disguising her copper-skinned young body. She fights like a mad thing in your grasp as the others surge past you and through the door. You try to hold her and calm her, but she is having none of it, struggling like a wild animal in a trap, her efforts putting you off balance and tumbling you both to the floor. She's beneath you, writhing and striking at you, screaming in anger and fear, her robes tearing away and riding up to expose her sleek legs. Her eyes are wild, her face a mask of fury and panic.

And suddenly the teenaged girl is Diana. Still full of fury and frenzy, fighting you madly as you try to calm her, tearing at your battledress and clawing at your face. Your cock is suddenly stiff and rigid, your need for her overpowering, and with a growl you press her down, forcing her thighs apart as your cock seeks her wet portal. She shrieks as you find her folds, your shaft starting to impale her, her legs flailing and kicking,

Your ravishing cock meets an obstacle inside her. In the weird surreal dream world Diana is once again a virgin, her hymen blocking your path. You're maddened with lust, your cock throbbing with undeniable need, and with a ferocious growl you drive it into her, ripping her virginity away as she wails in shame and loss. You hammer your cock into her, her body shaking with sobs as you have your way, her hands clawing at you as she gasps beneath you.

With a roar of conquest, you explode inside her, filling her hot wet cunt with seed, shuddering as you empty yourself into her trembling body, claiming her as a prize of war before sinking into darkness and dreamless sleep.