Erotic Dungeon story... PDF Print E-mail
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Friday, 12 February 2010 03:55

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From: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it (TXPleasure)
Subject: Erotic Dungeon story...
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I've written a few pieces...but never shared them much...would sure
appreciate your opinions and comments.....and I hope you enjoy my
dreams...



                                    Dungeon

Even blindfolded, I recognized the clink of my heels on the metal stairs
we were climbing.  I knew he felt my shivering, despite the warmth of the
summer air and sun on my face.  I wanted to turn back, grab the railing
with my hand and find my way back to the curb.  The thin cotton print
dress flapped at my thighs as the wind wafted up between the tall
buildings.  I shuddered, and felt the grip of his hand in the small of my
back, reassuring, urging, reminding.

I knew where we were, and he knew I recognized the stairs.  My mind raced,
forming the images in my mind.  Before, when he had brought me here, it
was dark, night time, in the cold of winter.  The club was busy that
night, a large group celebrating a birthday, a small group welcoming an
old friend back into town.  Several couples took advantage of the quiet
corners, the exquisite props.  He had brought me here to observe, and to
observe my reactions.  I had been spellbound.  Public play had never
appealed to me, still didn't.  Yet the variety of scenes, and technical
expertise had opened a whole new realm of understanding for me.  He had
introduced me to the
owner, a kind faced gentleman who had greeted me warmly, in a gracious
manner.  I had been shocked later to see him with a whip in his hand, a
fierceness burning in his eyes. 

"But what are we Doing here?" my mind questioned.  I dared not utter a
sound.  I concentrated on keeping my breathing regular, focusing to make
positive that my body did not betray the doubt in my thoughts. My head
remained straight and proud.   I knew we had reached the landing, felt
rather than heard him open the heavy warehouse door.  He turned, smoothed
the hair back from my face, brushed his hand over my dress, squeezed my
shoulder and once again, with his hand in my back, propelled me forward
into the open expanse of a room.

Silence.  The silence was deafening.  We stood for long moments.  I heard
nothing.  The door  swung closed behind us, and I heard a faint click of
the lock.  The ideas and notions crashed in my mind with a speed
reminiscent of a junkyard derby.  Was someone else here?  Was there a
group about to yell *Surprise* and scare me into laughter?  My phobias
crescendoed.  I went quickly from the practical guesses to the absurd.
Only a few seconds had passed, but my fears dragged them into hours.  His
gentle touch reminded me.  I took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

"Trust me."

How often had I laughed at the thought.  Trust someone, indeed.  Now there
was the real absurdity.  Yet, everything in my memory reminded me that
this man was such that could be trusted, relied upon to fulfill promises
and responsibilities. 

So I nodded.  And breathed again.

I stood silently as I felt him walk away from me.  I continued to keep my
hands clasped behind my back, not bound, yet bound by his command.  When
he returned, I could sense him standing before me, heard the sharpness of
his breath before he spoke,  "Please, now, remove your dress for me.
Slowly.  Erotically."  The final two words came out with a smile.  I
formed the image of his face as the pleasure spread across his look.  My
hands began with the top button, working my way all the way down the dress
before slipping it from my shoulders and letting it drop on the floor.  I
stood with my legs slightly apart, my body now nude before him, the heels
extending the muscles in my legs, accentuating the positive.  My hands
returned to my back, now locked hand to elbow as he would wish, my breasts
thrust outward and my back bowed because of the stance. 

As he bent to retrieve the dress on the floor, his lips brushed against my
mons, kissing it lightly, almost reverently.  I heard him inhale deeply
and chuckle at the already erupting passion so apparent between my legs.
He stood, and pressed close to me, his hands sliding around to hold my
arms in place as he gathered me into a deep embrace.  His kiss on my lips
was possessive, searching for the ownership he had already claimed.  I
answered with a fire of lust, returning his kiss and giving strong
evidence to the rights that I had given him months ago.

He broke the kiss and pulled me forward.  I tried to remember the layout
of the club, which devices were to the left, to the right.  Almost as if
he knew, he walked me in a circle, and called out each piece as we passed.


"A lovely bondage table.  Remember the blonde bound here, looking as
though she were ready to bench press 200# at any moment? <chuckle>..maybe
not.  Or these stocks?  Surely you remember the reddened ass of that poor
male sub?  No?  Well, what have we here?  The St. Andrew's Cross?
Ahhh...I remember the gleam in your eye at this one.  It matched the smile
escaping from your lips even now.  Wait, don't make up your mind so
suddenly.  I don't believe this particular instrument was here during your
last visit.  Would you like for me to describe it to you?  Or would you
prefer to feel it?"

His hands pulled mine from behind me, and guided me towards a platform.  I
stepped up to feel a wood railing, woodwork.  He guided my hands across
and down, showing me the framework of a four poster bed.  Then he pulled
me around, to touch the soft fine linen of the bed covers.  An image was
forming in my mind of a very beautiful Victorian bed.  One that just
happened to be located in the middle of a very large public common area of
a local dungeon.  And just as quickly as my mind had begun to sink into a
new space, the realities shocked me back into a shivering turmoil.

He walked me away from the raised platform and back to the center of the
room.  He spread my legs further apart, his hand on the inside of my
thigh, urging me to move.  Following his whispered commands, I moved my
hands up behind my head, interlacing my fingers.  He quickly and in a very
business like way bucked the cuffs on my ankles, and my wrists.  He
replaced the soft silk blindfold with a stronger, heavier one.  A thick
collar went around my neck.  His gentle kisses on the naked flesh of my
shoulders eased the tension that came with the click of that buckle.  I
swallowed hard, and turned my head from one side to the other, trying to
shake the
feeling somehow, not accustomed to the collar. 

He paused, then stopped.  Suddenly time stood still.  His voice was almost
pained when he spoke.

"The collar, my dear?  Is it not to your taste?  Answer me, please."
"It...it is fine, Sir."
"It pleases you then?"
"If it pleases you, Sir."

His soft caresses calmed me, settled me once again.  His gentle voice
placated me.  I remember not the words, but the tone.  Hushed whispers
once again hypnotized my mind, pushed me back towards the space we craved.
Arms cradled me.  His body was once again close to mine, reassuring me.
And just as I felt comfortable again, safe in his arms, he withdrew.

"Now then, my sweet," he laughed softly, "do you choose, or shall I?"

Ahhh,  the frustration.  Each time I started to slip into that realm of
abject  submission, he'd make me think.  Defiantly, I pondered his
proposal.  If he wasn't going to let me sink into that space, then why did
he keep me so close?  My chin jutted forward a bit, my jaw set.  How I
wish he could have seen the blaze in my eyes.

"You are glaring, my dear."  More soft laughter.  "Even with your eyes
closed, your body betrays you.  I suppose I will have to go through the
very tedious task of discussing this choice."  His voice dropped into that
low soft cadence that he usually reserved for lulling me to sleep at
night.  He went through the various uses of each device, explaining in
detail the torments that could await on each one.  I stood frozen, trying
to remain stoic, unmoved.  He had taken a chair close by.  I heard him
scoot it closer, then felt his fingers begin to prod, every so slowly,
into the velvet folds of my lips.  A soft moan escaped me as he judged my
arousal. 

He stood quickly, grabbed my arm and propelled me towards the back wall of
the room.  His aggression came from nowhere, yet I felt it instantly.  His
hunger to see me open and available was instant.  He stood me against
something, raised my arms, stretching them out and up, even as his feet
pushed my legs even further apart, almost uncomfortably so.  I felt more
buckles just above my elbows, and my knees, opening me further. 

My mind cleared almost as fast as his sudden motion.  All I could think
about was how open I was suddenly, and how wet, how hot.  I pulled against
the new restraints, and moaned, loudly, suddenly aching fiendishly for his
touch, any touch.  I felt the cross tilt then, leaning me back a bit,
taking the weight off my feet. 

He left me there, for moments.  I don't know how long.  The next feeling
was of his lips on my breasts, his tongue teasing the nipples, suckling
them, nipping at them with his teeth.  There was still a small part of me
hoping my body would defy him, not respond.  But the instincts were too
strong, and my tits grew hard in his mouth, his teeth drawing first one
and then the other out into hard red ends of fire. 

The first clamp took my breath away, the second clamp found my scream.
The engulfing wave of heat drove me straight to the brink.  I should not
have screamed.  I heard his voice reminding me it was daytime, and we
didn't want to draw unneeded attention from the street below.  And he
slipped in the ball gag as I caught my breath.  I was so distraught,
pulling against the leather, clenching and unclenching the lips of my sex,
dripping and knowing that my body was begging for the touch. 

He returned his attentions to my breasts, now sufficiently clamped.  His
tongue toyed with the clamp on one while his hand tugged gently at the
other.  I moaned beneath the gag, my breath went shallow and ragged.
Everything inside of me continued to Scream...TOUCH ME...RELEASE
ME...moments passed.  He toyed slowly, cruelly.  And my mind came around
to a very important lesson, one I seemed to be learning over and over.

In his time, not mine, would I be satisfied. 

He must have felt the dawning, again.  And he began to stroke my extremely
wet folds with one finger, drawing them open, carefully avoiding my clit.
Suddenly I felt his tongue there, quenching his thirst on the flow of
nectar.  His touches were maddening, and I was drawn once again to the
precipice of deliverance. 

His fingers worked the juice to my ass, and he toyed with the rosette
opening.  The edge slipped away as I felt the intrusion.  A small
vibrator, and inserted extremely slow, so as not to let me cum, but ohhhh
how it made me ache.  A larger, longer vibe was buried in my cunt, yet
with the same cautious movement.  I clenched the walls of my heat against
it, trying in vain to move.

Finally, I felt him begin to fuck me with the vibe.  Slowly, painstakingly
slow stokes that made me whimper with despair.  I gave up hope.  He was
not ever going to allow me that pleasure.  I sagged in the bonds. 

At just that moment, he rammed that vibe with full force deep into my
pussy, activated the vibe in my ass and with a smile on his face, ordered
me to cum.  I shattered, my body convulsing with a pent up passion that
exploded.  The nerves from my finger tips to my toes were alive with the
rippling of the orgasm, my thighs trembling, my body quivering.  My back
bowed as much as the restraints allowed and he saw the flow of cum running
down my legs.  He continued to fuck me
with the vibe, harder and faster and deeper with each plunge.  I knew only
the song of my body, the reward of a lesson learned again.

He didn't stop, of course.  The lesson went on, my orgasms building one on
top of the other.  I drifted in a sea of reaction, release and completion.
How does one count orgasms?  At what point can the line be drawn between
them?  I remember only that they didn't stop, only melted, one into the
other, until I passed out.

I awoke nestled in the soft scented sheets of a beautiful oak wood bed.  I
felt the railings to which my hands were bound.  The rest of my body lay
unfettered, covered with a soft sheet, warmed by the late afternoon sun
shining in the window.  No more gags, and the blindfold was once again a
soft silk scarf.  I stretched lazily, the curled up again, nuzzling my
face in the soft pillow beneath my head.  The dull throbbing between my
legs reminded me that all was not a dream.  And I drifted again. It was
the conversation that awoke me.  The two men discussing the display.
Moments in their conversation passed before I realized *I* Was the
display.  I heard the clink of glasses, murmurs of distant conversations,
occasional steps closer to the bed where I slept, or as now, pretended to
sleep.  I then heard Him move closer.

"Happy Hour is about over, Lover.  We should go, before you become the
night's entertainment.  You are too spent for that, I believe."  His soft
laughter cajoled the smile from my lips as he untied me, and gathered me
into his arms, whispering his praise, and slipping my dress over my head.


"Completely awake now?" 
I nodded.
"Let's let you look now."

The blindfold slipped off, and my eyes adjusted to the fading light as
afternoon turned into evening.  The bed was beautiful, and just as I had
imagined in my mind.  The owner stood watching, and nodded his head in a
pleased way.  I did not look around further, only locked my gaze on the
eyes of the man who had satisfied me so deeply, and took his arm to leave,
to travel home, to be His.




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