Post by hawkeye on Feb 9, 2018 1:59:53 GMT
Fitting in training between class, work and the highs-and-lows of a woman coming down from sustained prescription drug use made Sierra’s life…interesting. And while sneaking into UCF’s workout facility after hours was an activity she wouldn’t be able to list on her resume, the thought of reclaiming the life of a woman she admired and adored made it worth all the effort and risk.
Sierra Mist
With no ring to work in, and Lisa not yet likely to handle it well if there were, Mist kept things simple; jogging, calisthenics, a little push-n-pull of a collar-and-elbow when things were going smoothly. She broke up the physical pursuits with long talks about recovery, safety, security. Sure, she occupied ninety percent of the conversation, but The Dream was responding on a regular basis in full sentences after a week as her new roomie.
Lisa Dream
Thankfully, Dream preferred to hunker down in her apartment while she met her other obligations. This meant library time on her thesis and looking as innocent as possible when going through the motions at Orlando General as staff continued to try and discover how one of their involuntary commits could have freed herself.
The first couple days were rough to say the least, but Mist had enough ‘samples’ to taper the Dream down to below thirty percent of what she’d been on in the rubber slammer by the next weekend and that alone made Lisa more coherent if not exactly bubbly.
For the moment, the former FAWN World Champion took orders well, responding to Sierra’s call for exercise with gusto. Though the brunette exhausted quickly, she seemed willing to run through a wall for her emancipator and the midnight consultations under the dull glow of several nightlights seemed to work wonders. It didn’t hurt Sierra had picked up ‘suggestive thought’ therapy like a whiz as a grad student and used it religiously and successfully with Dream.
At the end of week one, more often than not, The Dream was following the schedule Mist laid down without Sierra tempting or cajoling her. Lisa enjoyed pleasing her deliverer and when the nightmares that haunted The Dream in her sleep caused mental and emotional anguish, Mist made sure she was there with a soft word and a gentle hand.
And below the surface, the rip cord was planted, the lifeline she’d make sure Lisa always had to bail herself out of trouble when, inevitably when it came in FAWN, she’d enter a position where escape from civilization and a journey back into the fury Mist could only bury so far, would be necessary.
“Great job, Lees,” Sierra shouted as The Dream got her jump rope circling at a rapid clip, Lisa going for thirty seconds before Mist called the activity to a halt.
“Bring it in,” the PhD-to-be said, motioning the glistening brunette toward her.
The Dream scurried to Sierra like an enthusiastic puppy. When Mist extended her arms, Lisa threw hers out as well and the limbs laced together, Lisa grappling with her teacher, not relearning exactly, but re-familiarizing herself with the touch of another and the attempt of another to control her movements without her breaking down into sobs.
It felt good to show strength and try to gain an upper hand and, when occasionally The Dream would ratchet up a notch too high, a simple “LEES” from Sierra would bring her back inside the boundary.
“Sorry.”
The word always elicited a giggle from Mist when she heard it dribble from Lisa’s lips.
“Thank you, Lisa,” Mist would respond politely. “You’re so sweet…Lisa Sweet.”
The Dream took solace from Sierra’s kindness and, in turn, Mist reveled as much in their budding relationship as her ability to release Lisa Sweet from Lisa Dream and submerge, for now, what she knew would be necessary for the former patient of Dr. Blassenville to survive FAWN.
“The ring,” Sierra huffed with both women still trying to gain leverage.
Lisa slid to the side, pivoted and drew Mist into a tight side headlock.
“Tomorrow,” the PhD-to-be grunted. “We move into the ring and get you out of the baggy gray sweat pants and shirt and into your gear.”
The Dream cinched tight and wrenched at Sierra’s head and neck.
“LEES!”
The Dream took an extra second to give up her hold but did so and backed up a step.
“Sorry,” Dream apologized. “I’m worried I’m not ready for leather. But you’re right. I have to be me. The best me. And that’s where I can find the best me.”
Sierra lit up like a proud mama, wrapping Lisa up in a bear hug.
“Yes…exactly…that’s my girl,” she whispered in The Dream’s ear. “The best you…the per…”
Mist caught herself.
“The new you.”
Sierra Mist
With no ring to work in, and Lisa not yet likely to handle it well if there were, Mist kept things simple; jogging, calisthenics, a little push-n-pull of a collar-and-elbow when things were going smoothly. She broke up the physical pursuits with long talks about recovery, safety, security. Sure, she occupied ninety percent of the conversation, but The Dream was responding on a regular basis in full sentences after a week as her new roomie.
Lisa Dream
Thankfully, Dream preferred to hunker down in her apartment while she met her other obligations. This meant library time on her thesis and looking as innocent as possible when going through the motions at Orlando General as staff continued to try and discover how one of their involuntary commits could have freed herself.
The first couple days were rough to say the least, but Mist had enough ‘samples’ to taper the Dream down to below thirty percent of what she’d been on in the rubber slammer by the next weekend and that alone made Lisa more coherent if not exactly bubbly.
For the moment, the former FAWN World Champion took orders well, responding to Sierra’s call for exercise with gusto. Though the brunette exhausted quickly, she seemed willing to run through a wall for her emancipator and the midnight consultations under the dull glow of several nightlights seemed to work wonders. It didn’t hurt Sierra had picked up ‘suggestive thought’ therapy like a whiz as a grad student and used it religiously and successfully with Dream.
At the end of week one, more often than not, The Dream was following the schedule Mist laid down without Sierra tempting or cajoling her. Lisa enjoyed pleasing her deliverer and when the nightmares that haunted The Dream in her sleep caused mental and emotional anguish, Mist made sure she was there with a soft word and a gentle hand.
And below the surface, the rip cord was planted, the lifeline she’d make sure Lisa always had to bail herself out of trouble when, inevitably when it came in FAWN, she’d enter a position where escape from civilization and a journey back into the fury Mist could only bury so far, would be necessary.
“Great job, Lees,” Sierra shouted as The Dream got her jump rope circling at a rapid clip, Lisa going for thirty seconds before Mist called the activity to a halt.
“Bring it in,” the PhD-to-be said, motioning the glistening brunette toward her.
The Dream scurried to Sierra like an enthusiastic puppy. When Mist extended her arms, Lisa threw hers out as well and the limbs laced together, Lisa grappling with her teacher, not relearning exactly, but re-familiarizing herself with the touch of another and the attempt of another to control her movements without her breaking down into sobs.
It felt good to show strength and try to gain an upper hand and, when occasionally The Dream would ratchet up a notch too high, a simple “LEES” from Sierra would bring her back inside the boundary.
“Sorry.”
The word always elicited a giggle from Mist when she heard it dribble from Lisa’s lips.
“Thank you, Lisa,” Mist would respond politely. “You’re so sweet…Lisa Sweet.”
The Dream took solace from Sierra’s kindness and, in turn, Mist reveled as much in their budding relationship as her ability to release Lisa Sweet from Lisa Dream and submerge, for now, what she knew would be necessary for the former patient of Dr. Blassenville to survive FAWN.
“The ring,” Sierra huffed with both women still trying to gain leverage.
Lisa slid to the side, pivoted and drew Mist into a tight side headlock.
“Tomorrow,” the PhD-to-be grunted. “We move into the ring and get you out of the baggy gray sweat pants and shirt and into your gear.”
The Dream cinched tight and wrenched at Sierra’s head and neck.
“LEES!”
The Dream took an extra second to give up her hold but did so and backed up a step.
“Sorry,” Dream apologized. “I’m worried I’m not ready for leather. But you’re right. I have to be me. The best me. And that’s where I can find the best me.”
Sierra lit up like a proud mama, wrapping Lisa up in a bear hug.
“Yes…exactly…that’s my girl,” she whispered in The Dream’s ear. “The best you…the per…”
Mist caught herself.
“The new you.”