Dungeon 101

Note for regular readers:

• While this is clearly an Emily Miller story, having several elements in common with the rest of my work, the category is not one I have written in before, nor is it one to which I intend to be a habitual contributor.

• My motivations for writing this one-off story are complicated and private. I'm not going to engage in discussion about them.

• Having decided to embark on this journey, I viewed the challenge as essentially analogous to the one I faced in making tentacle porn more aligned with my own sensibilities. As with the Coleoidphilia Trilogy, I have plotted my own path through the bear traps. This is my own version of non-con. You may love the path I have taken or hate it, but it's my path.

• I'm looking forward to writing my more regular whimsical porn where people are mostly having fun and being nice to each other; with some wholesome BDSM thrown in.

Emily

I guess the week was finally improving for me. It had been pretty shit, really shit, actually. But now, I had a gorgeous girl occupying the barstool next to me. Laughing at my jokes. Patting my hand as she talked. Playing with her long, brunette hair. Holding eye contact that little bit longer than necessary. Touching her teeth with her tongue. The signals were not hard to read. She might as well have been wearing a T-shirt saying, "fuck me, please." Some girls are like that, they just want cock. I like those girls and they like me.

It was Friday evening and I could definitely do with something good happening. The early week had been a nightmare. All my fault, I wasn't careful enough. I had been at this other girl's place. Robin, I called her my little bird. We'd been a thing for a while. I liked fucking her. We'd even hung out some. Then she'd started calling herself my girlfriend. I wasn't so sure about that, but she really was a good fuck. She pushed my buttons, a few I didn't know I had. She was young as well, just turned twenty. I liked that. Made me feel younger. I still could be a pussy magnet, like the old days. And she was blonde. What man doesn't like pulling blonde hair while you fuck them doggy-style?

So, anyway, I'm relaxing after screwing her. She let me ass-fuck her, what a little slut. But, wow, she was tight. She was a good little bitch and didn't cry that much. It guessed it was her first time, though she claimed not. But squealing like that? I bet she lied. How cool is that? Anal cherry, what a bonus.

Now I'm on her couch, checking on a work project while she takes a shower. Then the entry phone rings. I answer. Because she's busy, and I'm trying to be nice. It's Amazon. But it's not even for her, it's the next apartment. I tell the guy to go fuck himself. He asks again and I tell him to get a proper job; asshole.

When I get back to the lounge, she's standing there with a towel around her chest and another around her head. I guess she's sort of cute, for an ugly girl. Nice body, but not really pretty. Not exactly my type. I like them with bigger breasts; she's almost like a boy. Still, I had nothing else going on and she doesn't seem to mind it rough. That's in her favor.

I try to smile. I'm being nice again. Then I see she's holding my phone. Next, I see the look on her face. It hits me. Shit, I didn't lock it. Be cool, it's maybe OK. But I know from her face that it's not.

"Hi, babe. It was for next door. Can you believe those fucking delivery guys?"

"Next door are nice. They've taken stuff for me. Why do you have to be so unpleasant about everything?"

She sounded pissed. Not something I was used to. Normally I was the one who got cross when she did something wrong. She screwed up a lot, typical female.

"OK, I guess. Just don't get your panties in a bunch."

She stared at me and was clearly about to say something, when she changed her mind.

"Whatever! It's not important. But this..."

She held up my phone.

"This is."

I feigned ignorance. But I knew trouble was coming. Why do hoes have to be so high maintenance?

"What's up, babe?"

"This is up. Did you write this... this... misogynistic filth?"

"What are you talking about?"

I was stalling, trying to think of what I might tell her to diffuse the situation.

"Do you want me to read it to you! Well, OK."

"I slapped the little whore. She can't talk to me like that. She can't say no to me now. I bought her dinner. I pretended to be interested in her boring life. What more does she want? And that dress? Hookers wear longer dresses. I knew she wanted it. Time to stop teasing."

She stopped reading.

"What the fuck, Jason?"

"What are you upset about, babe? It's just a story. I told you I write. Well this is what I write. There's a market for it. People get off on this shit. It's all just fantasy."

"Fantasy?"

She scrolled down.

"I held her throat and squeezed as she lay on the parking lot floor. I saw the fear in her eyes. She knew what was going to happen. She struggled and I laughed at her. She spat in my face and I slapped her hard. A bitch needs to know her place. Anyway, I knew she wanted it. They always want it."

"Fantasy? You call this fantasy. It's disgusting and it's glorifying assault."

"It's words, little girl. Just words. Words can't hurt anyone."

"They hurt me to read. Don't you get that?"

"No, babe. You don't understand. Let me explain. I get paid to write this. Did you think I did it for enjoyment? No way."

I could see she was faltering a bit. Tell bitches what they want to hear and you can do anything with them.

"So you don't... don't like this shit?"

There it was! She was giving in. It was all cool. So easy really.

She came and hugged me and apologized for overreacting.

"I didn't mean to look at it. It was on the floor ringing. Maybe the vibrations made it fall off the couch."

This was good, she was apologizing. Panic over.

I'd stayed the night at her apartment. I didn't do that normally. I'd had to defer a meeting I had booked, but that was OK. The main thing was to keep my regular fuck sweet. Playtime could wait and the other girl was happy enough with the $50 cancellation fee. I'd even fallen asleep with my arm around the whiny bitch. Chicks dig that shit. All under control.

I woke with a jump. The light had been turned on and she'd shaken me roughly.

"What's going on, babe?"

I struggled to adjust to the sudden brightness. Eventually making out her standing. And she had my phone again in one hand and her own in the other. What the fuck now? This bitch was becoming so not worth the trouble.

"Get up! Get dressed! And get the fuck out!"

I laughed. What was she going to do? She was half my size.

"What's up, babe? Time of the month?"

She seemed to be struggling with her emotions. Bitches are like that.

"You are going to get the fuck out, right now. Or I'm going to call 911, tell the cops you attacked me and use the content of this phone to back up my story. Your choice."

I saw her press one digit on her own phone, then another, and then hold her finger above the same key."

I guess she was serious. What was wrong with her?

"OK. OK. I'll go. But what the fuck? There's nothing on that phone."

"See you're stupid as well as sick in the head."

I had no idea what she was talking about.

"You are not too old to use technology, but you are clearly too old to understand it."

I still had no clue.

"How did I unlock your phone? I put it next to your face. Did you know it keeps a copy of images you delete? It's an album, called 'recently deleted'. Guess how you can access it? That's right, dumbass. Facial recognition again."

I wasn't following her. She held up the phone and I saw a woman flinching from the raised hand of a guy who was fucking her.

Shit!

"There are lots. Some are much worse. Shall I show you?"

I shook my head.

"So, not only are you a disgusting excuse for a human being, you fucking lied to me. Get the fuck out. I never want to see you again. Got it."

I contemplated telling her the photos were research for work. But she really wasn't worth the effort, plenty more fish in the sea. Which is how we get to the brunette sitting with me now in the bar.

This was a step up. This girl was actually pretty. She was flirting openly and clearly wanted me. This was better. Fuck that uptight bitch and her puritanical bullshit view of things. This girl knew what was what.

She leaned forward, her cleavage was impressive from this angle, and whispered in my ear. Breathing harder than she needed to.

"Want to go somewhere more private?"

"Sure. Let me take a leak and we can finish our drinks. Do you have a place?"

She said she did and I walked to the restroom smiling to myself. You landed on your feet, no mistake. I felt like whistling. But I never got the hang of it. I pursed my lips and blew. Nothing. What the fuck, who cares?

Rather than use a urinal, I went into a stall. See, age causes problems. I still get hard. No problem with the wood. But sometimes now, I cum sooner than I'd like. I used to be a stud, could go on for hours. Not so much now. But this girl was offering it to me on a plate. I didn't want her laughing at me. Best to do something about that.

I pissed and shook myself dry. The shaking got me a bit hard. I closed my eyes and thought of the girl back in the bar. Thought of her breasts pushing against each other as she leaned towards me. That was good, I started to stroke myself. Just a little bit of effort now and she'll be impressed with my stamina later. I was really hard now and grabbed my shaft. I squeezed, pulling up and down. Thinking about her smiling face. Thinking about spraying it with my cum.

Shit! This was no fucking good. Maybe a bit too much alcohol. I was still very erect but nowhere near cumming. I was conscious I had been away from the bar for some time. I closed my eyes and a new set of images filled my mind. The girl her make-up streaked. Tears in her eyes. My body weight holding her down. Her shouting "no" until I covered her mouth. Her eyes staring wildly as I penetrated her. She was another fucking tease, but all bitches want just one thing. I grabbed her hair and pulled hard. I could tell she liked that.

"Slap me, Jason. I deserve to be slapped."

I hit her with the back of my hand. Red stained her face, dripping from a split lip. Fuck yes, that's what she needed. I felt waves flow up my shaft and muscles tense and release, tense and release, as creamy fluid squirted into the bowl. Fuck yes. OK I'm ready for later.

I went back to the bar and noticed she had got us both another drink. I finished my old one and started on the new. The girl was coming on to me even more. I'd just cum but could feel I was swelling again.

Then I began to think maybe I had had too much to drink. I couldn't hear what she was saying. I couldn't see her face properly, it was blurred. When she moved, she left trails behind her. The noises in the bar seemed to run into each other. The walls started to flex and bend. Her voice filtered down to me, like I was in the depths of a well.

"Are you OK? Want to get some air?"

I nodded, feeling like my head was moving through some viscous substance. I got off my stool and saw the floor rush towards me.

"Take my hand. Lean on me. I'll get you home."

Home. Home would be good. I tried to say the name of the motel, but it was hard to speak. I recall my arm over her shoulders and then nothing.

I was in darkness, but underwater. Dimly above me a light twinkled. I tried to move towards it. I couldn't. I panicked, but then felt myself floating involuntarily. Floating up to the light. I half opened my eyes, then closed them. The light felt searing. My head throbbed. I opened my lids just a sliver, peering through lashes. My stomach churned. I was going to be sick. I tried to sit up, but something held me down. I retched and turned my head. A silver bowl appeared, held by a disembodied hand, and I vomited sideways into it. The bowl was removed and the hand wiped my face and then the surface next to me with a damp cloth. The acrid smell of my stomach contents filled my nostrils.

I lay back and then flexed my neck to look in front of me. I was naked and bound. My arms were spreadeagled. My knees bent, raised, parted, and tied to vertical poles. My ankles were also restrained, but I couldn't see how. I was elevated, on some table or podium. Between my legs, I saw her. The brunette, now just in jeans and a T-shirt.

"What the fuck! You roofied me, you fucking bitch! Why am I tied up, are you some fucking freak?"

She smiled and wandered to stand next to me. Leaning, she whispered in my ear.

"I really think it might be advisable to be a little more polite in your situation. Don't you agree?"

She gently put her hand over my mouth and then started to squeeze. To squeeze fucking hard.

"So, are you going to be a good boy?"

I was angrier than I could ever recall. If I could get loose, she was getting a beating. But I saw there was nothing I could do right now. I nodded as best I could and she released my face, slapping my cheek once before disappearing into the darkness at the side of the room. I had initially been blinded by the light, but in truth the room was dim. I heard her voice without being able to see her.

"Now you probably feel like shit. Sorry about that. But it was necessary. And no, it wasn't anything as nasty as flunitrazepam. Something else that just knocked you out for a bit. Your memory should be fine and you won't get depressed. I don't want to hurt you, at least your brain anyway. But you'll feel bad for an hour or so. My friend here will look after you and we'll talk when you are feeling better."

From the gloom, another figure appeared. It was dressed head to toe in black leather. Including a mask that clung to its face. Shit, I'm dreaming that I'm in a Tarantino movie. But I knew I wasn't dreaming. What did the bitch want with me?

The bar girl spoke from the shadows.

"Take the pills and water, they will help. If you need to pee, my assistant has a bottle. Let's hope you don't need to empty your bowels for a bit."

I couldn't tell if the gimp was male or female, I guessed a small male from their shape. Silently he held two pills above my mouth. I figured if they intended me harm, there was nothing much I could do about it. I opened my mouth and swallowed. He put a bottle of water to my lips and I drank as best I could in my supine position. Then I closed my eyes and tried to think what to do. My mind was full of imagery of dragging the bitch along by her hair. Slap me? I'd show the whore what a real slap was. Then a thought occurred. Maybe she was just kinky, got off on fucking guys like this.

"I see you are feeling a bit better. Maybe there is no need to wait after all."

Her accomplice had disappeared from view, but the bitch was back. Between my legs. And smiling. Not a smile that I was entirely comfortable with. She leaned forward and grabbed the root of my cock. I guess my earlier thoughts had had a physical effect. Her pressure now completed the task and I was fully erect.

"Not bad, I suppose, but a little disappointing."

"Fuck you, sister! I get girls saying I'm too big for them all the time. And I know your perverted plan, you want to fuck me like this, don't you."

She laughed and I felt my brief confidence drain away.

"Maybe you never got them wet enough. A dry fuck is uncomfortable, even with a small penis. As for wanting to fuck you? Well I don't. Not like you think anyway. But I feel bad for you. Let me say sorry for kidnapping you. Gimp!"

She said the last word so loud I jumped in my restraints. The leather-clad figure reappeared. He seemed about the same height as the girl. The brunette pulled at the front of her assistant's mask. A fastener came undone and a small door opened where I assumed his mouth was. In the dim light, it was hard to see.

The brunette pushed the gimp downwards and on to my cock.

"Hey, I'm not a fag. Get him off of me."

"You will do as you are told, or you will regret it."

"Fuck you, bitch!"

"Stop sucking him for a moment. I won't be long."

She was as good as her word and quickly returned holding what looked like a longer, more tapered version of a BBQ lighter. White handle, sliver metallic tip. Without a word, she put it on my chest.

Zap!

Pain erupted at the point she had touched. I writhed in my bonds and arched my back, screaming.

She touched a nipple.

Zap!

My screaming was louder. Tears filled my eyes.

She put her face near mine.

"Now, sweetie, do we have an understanding. Or is your scrotum next?"

I spoke though clenched teeth.

"We have an understanding."

I was going to fucking kill her when I got free. Strangle her, while I fucked her. Bitch was going to pay.

She smiled sweetly.

"Good. Tell the gimp you want to be sucked until you cum in their mouth."

"I want you to suck me until I cum in your mouth, you fucking freak!"

Zap!

My other nipple.

"No more. No more. Just suck me, OK. Just suck me."

I had assumed that my torture would have deflated my cock, but just the opposite. I wasn't normally this hard. The gimp went down on me. He knew what he was doing. Part of me felt like vomiting again, but he was good. He was actually fucking good. Shit! What is wrong with you? I told myself I had no choice. That it wasn't my fault. I fought against the pleasure that was undeniably coursing through my body. I said it wasn't real. This is wrong, this is deviant. But the sliding of his lips up and down my shaft was so good. His tongue enfolding my bell end was fucking amazing. My dick was telling me yes, while my mind was screaming no. My dick won, like it always did. I gave in to it.

I must have seemed more at ease as the pleasure built, because the bitch zapped the inside of my thigh. I jerked at the shock and, amazingly, it made me start to cum. Cum fucking hard. The throbbing consumed me, pushing aside my disgust at what was happening. Overriding my thoughts of guilt and shame. Cock wants to cum, screw everything else. Seeing my shaft pulse, the bitch zapped my other thigh, which just made me pump more semen into the gimp's mouth. I finished, exhausted and panting. The gimp tilted his head back and swallowed. The bitch fastened his mask again. I felt sick. I felt used. I felt dirty and worthless. But my dick was purring contentedly to itself. It was happy. It had got what it wanted.

"Good Gimp. Maybe we will feed you more later. I'll let you rest, Jason, then it's my turn."

How the fuck did she know my name? I'd not mentioned it at the bar. I didn't know her name either. Then names of girls didn't often mean a lot to me.

The gimp wiped my cock with a cloth and then both disappeared. Whether out of the room, or just to its sides, I didn't know.

What did the bitch have planned? When I got free, I'd slap that stupid smile off of her face. Naked, restrained and forced to be a fag, I got some crumbs of comfort from the thought of face-fucking the bitch until she was sick. Then I realized I had a more urgent need.

"Hey! I need to pee."

The gimp appeared, holding a bottle and fed my soft cock into its broad neck. It felt strange, but I released and listened to the sound of water trickling into glass.

I heard the bitch's voice.

"Keep it, we may use it later."

Alone again, I tried to think of some plan. A way to get out of this hell. But I struggled to concentrate. Maybe it was the after effects of whatever drug the bitch had used on me. Maybe it was the unexpectedly massive orgasm that had just thundered through my body. Perhaps there had been something in the pills the gimp had given me. Whatever the reason, and despite my dire situation, I felt very drowsy. I closed my eyes, it felt impossible to fight my fatigue. Someone was going to pay for this, that much I was sure about. But, for now, I needed to sleep.