<div class="floatright"><sup><em>click to enlarge</em></sup><br/>(http://i.imgur.com/oRo1I8x.jpg)<br/><br/>(http://i.imgur.com/rjr9sq8.jpg)<br/><br/>(http://i.imgur.com/PMLfMeV.jpg)</div><br/>The drink took her back to the dewy medow, that's right this was just a dream, brought on by moon wine.  The feeling of the leather, animated and moving like snakes across her body, that was just a strange part of the fantasy.  She saw a figure in the dark field, glowing pale in the moonlight.  She approached the solomn figure as he stared at the ground.  An elf, but not one like she'd ever seen, his body was strong, taut, muscled, powerful.  She approached as he stood motionless.<br/><br/>She could feel the straps tearing away the last of her clothing, her hard nipples exposed to the cold dusty air.  Her sex, damp, pressed against warm leather.<br/><br/>But she couldn't see his face as it was mostly cloaked in shadow.  She approached closer still, the song of wine dancing through her head and her stomach, her sex clenching at the powerful figure of male virility.  Who was this man in the moonlight?  Why did he not react?<br/><br/>The leather bound her tight to the chair, wrapping about her wrists and ankles before sliding around her body in a web of criss crossing leather straps.  She could feel it hugging her sex, squeezing her torso.<br/><br/>He looked up finally and his face was angelic, an elven god.  The body of an addonis and... she gasped... the cock of a stallion hung limp between his legs, even soft reaching almost half way to his knee.<em>  "Who are you?" </em>she heard herself asking the figure.<br/><br/><strong>"You don't belong here,"</strong>he whispered as he looked at her.<strong>  "You don't belong in this house."</strong><br/><br/>She looked around confused, this was no house, it was a tranquil moonlit field.  What was he talking about.<br/><br/><strong>"YOU DONT BELONG HERE!" </strong>he shouted, his face transforming in a moment from an angelic elven visage to one of horror.  A sunken face, mummified in death, lips pulled back from rotting teeth in the rictus of a grin.  He surged forwards and grabbed her by the neck.  His other hand grabbing the smooth mound between her thighs, two fingers pushing roughly into her with no warning.  She screamed out.<br/><br/>The field was gone, she was back in the house, restrained, and felt the grip about her neck a leather collar that bound her to the chair, and between her thighs the leather had animated to form a phallic appendage, one that was pushing in, between her damp sex as the scream brought her from moonwine induced fantasy back to the horrible reality of the situation.