Dream #1 - The Black Stag (A recorded session between Will Graham and Dr. Hannibal Lecter)

[RECORDING BEGINS: The voice of Will Graham]

I dream of a black Stag in rut. Under a full moon the massive beast crashes through a thicket when it sees a suitable mate. Its eyes glow red and it breathes fire. The thunder of its hooves vibrates the ground. I can feel the pounding through my bare feet. I'm naked. The sensation tingles up my legs. As it travels towards my belly, I feel my cock get hard. I don't know why this excites me, yet it does.

I want to be the Stag, but I'm not.

When the black Stag approaches the female, it does not stop. It dominates. It controls. It rises off the ground with its chest heaving and its eyes burning crimson. Its hooves flail and the beast grunts when it mounts her from behind. The female cries out when the Stag shoves into her. I see the whites of her eyes. She's afraid, but she doesn't resist. It is Nature's way. She doesn't have a choice. Her only duty is to let it happen.

I am standing too close, but I don't move. I want to see everything…feel everything. When my mind connects to the female, I feel the Stag enter me. I gasp and cry out with the pain. He is much too big for me. I can't take his length, but like the female, I have no choice. He pushes into me and I feel the heat of his girth fill me.

The Stag's hooves cut at my back. I grab for a tree and hold on as the beast pounds into me. Its massive body shudders with every thrust. I carry the animal's weight and I feel it shoving deep inside me, all the way to my belly. The thud of its hooves becomes more frantic and loud as it struggles to claim me with every inch.

Harder! Deeper!

I'm crying now as pain mixes with my own orgasm. I spew hot cum to the ground at my feet. My stiff cock flails with every spurt and the beast's grunting matches the rhythm of my throbbing heart. The pain is excruciating, yet I don't want it to stop. The animal swells inside me and brings tears to my eyes.

Damn it! Let go…do it!

The animal's girth explodes hot seed into me. It shrieks deep in its throat and spasms against my back as it shoots every drop up my ass. I feel its fur against the bare skin of my butt as it slows its manic thrust. The beast has impaled me and is still deep inside.

When it finally pulls its length from my anus, every inch is agonizing torture because I know the beast is done with me. The animal has stretched me and marked me for no one but him. When the bulbous head pops free and releases me, it's over. I collapse to the ground and double over, still feeling the Stag in me, filling me with its seed.

On the cold ground, I clench my butt cheeks to hold every drop of the animal inside me. I know this is foolish. I cannot hold the beast, even though that does not stop me from trying. That's when I usually wake up, feeling exhausted…and lonely. [RECORDING ENDS]

The Office of Dr. Hannibal Lecter

Dr. Hannibal Lecter panted as he shoved his stiff penis into Will Graham, straining for orgasm. With his hands grappling Will's shoulders for leverage, he struggled and pushed to get every inch into him. He thrust harder and faster, not caring if it hurt. He only wanted one thing. Will moaned and cried out with primal grunts as he shoved into him and he relished the feel of his balls slamming against Will's pliable butt cheeks. The sounds of flesh slapping flesh only aroused him to push harder. Hannibal felt the fire start in his balls before it spiraled through his shaft. The heat swelled until it could not be contained. He cried out and arched his back, spilling his seed into the object of his complete addiction. He shuddered with every drop.

When he looked down, Will's eyes were wide and his skin looked flushed as the young man clutched the desk, laying flat on his belly. He winced in pain, yet in his expressive blue eyes, an odd euphoric ecstasy lingered. Hannibal loved seeing that expression on Will's face, especially in profile after he'd mounted him and shoved in to the hilt. The hint of Will's pleasure made Hannibal feel as if his brand of therapy—administered to his special client—had done the socially awkward young man some good.

Hannibal collapsed onto Will's back and listened to the beat of his heart, an organ that would taste utterly delectable braised in a fine vintage Cognac. When he couldn't tarry any longer, he pulled his spent manhood from Will and assessed the damage.

He had the young man bent over his desk with his pants and boxers pooled at his boots. The urgency had struck Hannibal hard this time. Once he had hypnotized the young man and prepared him to do his bidding, he had made the mistake of playing the recording of Will's dream to set the mood, the recording that he couldn't get out of his head from their last session.

The Stag had brought out the beast in him, too.

Hannibal hadn't been patient undressing Will this time. Like a young man with his first male lover, he had yanked, pulled and prodded his way to take off the bare minimum. He only wanted one thing and he got it. Normally he liked Will completely naked. He craved the fullness of his well-shaped ass. Spreading his generous cheeks and pressing into him was a glorious pleasure not to be rushed.

As a rule, he took great joy in meticulously preparing young Will for their sessions. He often sang as he did so, applying a dab of lubricant to his finger and gently pushing it into his tight opening. He worked his sphincter with one finger, perhaps two, and sometimes three when he wanted Will to grimace. He loved easing his fingers in and out, through the tight ring as if he were tenderizing a good cut of meat, preparing young William for the choicest cut of all.

But after he'd listened to the recording of Will Graham's session for the third time, he indulged his impulse to become Will's Stag and take him rough. No lubricant. No foreplay. It's what Will wanted, yet would never say. The younger man's dreams were always vivid, a product of his empathic mind and they melded well with the reality the doctor wanted to manipulate in him. Their sessions had become an addictive pleasure—a dangerous game—where the hunted dared to impale the hunter and get away with it.

"Stand up, Will."

Will pushed off the desk and did as he was told. He didn't turn around. Hannibal had trained him well. He ran fingers through his wavy dark hair and smiled.

"Good boy."

When Hannibal glanced at the top of his desk, he saw what he expected to find. Will had spilled his seed, too. Milky stickiness was smeared across his desktop.

"Now turn and face me."

Will obeyed again. His expression was blank and he never met his gaze, not even when Hannibal lifted his shirt and touched his taut belly. He dragged a finger across Will's stomach to come away with his usual prize.

"I love the way you taste, my young friend." He stuck his loaded finger into his mouth and licked, savoring the tantalizing experience as if Will were a fine Bordeaux. "And your smell is irresistible after you come."

He moved closer to Will and took a deep breath, letting his nose trail an inch from his skin. He nuzzled his neck and licked his ear until he felt the stirring of another erection. He thought long and hard about indulging in an extended session with Will. He always enjoyed tying Will to the ladder that led up to his office library—fully naked—to have access to every side of the young man, front and back. But that would have to wait for another day.

"Alas, I do not have time for another session with you, Will. I'm hosting a dinner party with colleagues."

Hannibal gave another command and watched as Will cleaned the sperm from his desk—his sperm. With patience and gentleness he hadn't shown earlier, he dressed Will and enjoyed every button and zipper as if he were dressing a small child. He especially enjoyed tucking in Will's shirt, stealing another feel of his ass as he hugged him to his chest and indulged his fingers. When he was done, he looked Will over and adjusted his collar with a smile. He loved seeing Will in an obedient stupor, knowing he would be compliant and willing.

"I will count to five. When I am done, you will awaken. You will be fully refreshed and remember none of our session today. If your anus hurts and leaks fluid, you will disregard this. You will believe it is another hallucination caused by the Stag in your dreams and you will tell no one, except for me."

He plunged his tongue into Will's mouth, relishing the taste of him. When he pulled away, he began the countdown he dreaded.

"One." He sighed. "You will not ever forget the magnificent black Stag in your dreams, William. You invented him for a reason. You need him. Two."

He pressed his hand to Will's crotch and took a firm hold, watching the young man flinch. He couldn't resist touching him when he was in this vulnerable state. Hannibal took every liberty as if it would be his last session with Will Graham.

"Three. You will remember the Stag's dominance over you—the way he made you feel submissive to his will—and you will crave that feeling again and again."

He took Will's face in his hands and caressed his cheeks with a tenderness he would never show the young man if he were fully conscious. Will Graham would've rejected the intimacy from a man—from anyone.

"Four. Remember that when you had a choice, young Will, you chose to be the female. In the presence of the black Stag, you will always make the same choice."

He took Will by the hand and led him back to the chair he'd been sitting in. Already Will's breathing had changed and his eyelids fluttered. He would be awake soon. All he needed to open his eyes was one word that Hannibal fought the urge to say. Hannibal knelt between Will's knees and rested his elbows on the young man's thighs, staring at the one person who could bring him down.

That was the thrill. That was the rush.

"Come to me at midnight. My home. My bed," he whispered in Will's ear and kissed his cheek one last time. "I will be your Stag again."

Hannibal moved to sit in the chair opposite his client and smiled.

"Five." When Will opened his eyes, he said, "Can you hear me, William? How do you feel?"

Will Graham winced when he moved in his chair, as if it hurt to sit. He looked confused as his gaze shifted around the room until it finally came to rest on the bronze statue of the Stag that Hannibal treasured and a contented expression warmed his face.

He dared to smile—a gift Will rarely shared with anyone.

"I feel…good. Really good. My headache is gone and I feel…rested." When he sighed and looked at his watch, he realized their session had ended an hour ago. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize I'd kept you."

"Every minute was my pleasure, dear Will. Truly."

Will stood and adjusted his pants, still appearing confused as he headed toward the door and said, "Same time next week?"

"Yes, unless you have another urgent dream to share with me." Hannibal grabbed Will by the neck and gave a playful squeeze. "Then I will be all yours."