I See a Red Door Ch. 05

Neil, as usual, was feeling guilty about the enjoyment that this domination was creating within him and he tried feebly to resist, both physically and verbally. "Where are you taking me, and what are you going to do to me?" he asked while trying to shrug her hand off his arm.

Alena marched him out of the living room and down a curved elegant staircase to a walkout basement. Same view of the city carpet of lights, only framed with shrubs and trees of the back yard. She did not answer him.

"Nice view," he said, again trying to engage her, but he was beginning to learn that once she had a sexual mission, she was focused and intent upon receiving satisfaction from whatever kinks she desired.

"Enjoy it while it lasts deary," she finally responded, "You're not going to be seeing any more of it."

With that statement she grabbed a remote control off an ottoman and pressed a sequence of buttons. To Neil's astonishment, the entire wall opposite the city view parted and slid into receiving recesses to reveal a room like no other that he had ever seen. He had seen pictures and videos of BDSM rooms on the internet, but not one like this. There was everything imaginable in it, suspension devices, cages, barred cells, walls hung with various whips, paddles and floggers, tables similar to the one where he received his beating last week, queening chairs, plus numerous other pieces of paraphernalia that he hadn't a clue about. To his left the wall and floor was bare concrete with embedded attachment rings, a true dungeon setting, he thought; straight ahead was an area where the floor was covered with what appeared to be a layer of thick rubber matting, the ceiling a jungle of hanging chains. To his right the floor was carpeted and the area tastefully made to be a cozy bedroom with a king size bed, night tables, lamps, heavy curtains on the walls, and even a fully equipped en suite bathroom. The only incongruous items were the ubiquitous attachment sites for chains or whatever else she desired.

"Oh my God! This is unbelievable! Where did you get all this stuff? Jesus!" he exclaimed.

Alena guided him inside and pressed another button sequence on the remote to close the wall. He looked behind him and noted that the sliding wall was thickly padded, sound-proofed. She stood in front of the bed with her hands on her hips smiling like the Cheshire cat and said, "Come over here." He did so.

"This is for you," she whispered as she reached out and placed a steel collar with numerous D-rings around his neck. Again, the click of a lock. The collar was heavy, Neil noted, but not uncomfortable, although cold.

"Turn around," she demanded.

Her efficiency in administering her confinement devices was concise. The lock was removed from his cuffs behind his back and then each wrist was locked to a D-ring on each side of his collar, so that his hands were helplessly extended behind his ears.

Admiring her work, Alena said, "There you go. Now just relax. I'm going to shower and change before I put you under."

"Under? Under what? Wait...please say you're not going to drug me," he said with alarm.

"Don't be silly. You're going under my spell and into sub-space; that's all. You are my slave." She tossed her head, laughed and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him to explore.

Considering his semi-nude state, he was glad the room was warm. He saw the remote in front of him on the bed and he leaned over trying to grasp it. Realizing that he wouldn't be able to see the buttons with his hands behind his head he gave up that idea. Turning, he tried to find the crack in the sliding wall where it came together. There was none that he could see. He kicked it, and it seemed as solid as a regular wall. Must be on rails, he thought.

His eyes explored the area now with more detail, and he focused on the large barred cell just to his right. It was similar to a regular jail cell, even with a toilet in one corner. The floor was concrete and there was no bed. Desolate and bleak, especially if one was inside staring outward at the luxury of Alena's "bedroom", he thought. His eyes focused next on the numerous chains hanging from the ceiling. Actually, he noticed after some study, they hung from pulleys which were in tandem with pulleys on the walls, motorized pulleys. Yikes, he thought, as his mouth started to go dry.

Both excited and afraid, he realized Alena had the will and the means to do anything she wanted with him this weekend. He wished he was able to pour some wine from the open bottle on the night table, but his hands were useless. He sat on the bed, listening to the shower stop in the bathroom. If he could have twiddled his thumbs, he would have. Then he became curious about a wall hung with masks and hoods. As he inspected them, he realized the masks were the realistic rubber or silicone ones, very thick, with openings for the eyes and mouth, and small holes for the nose. They were "smooth-skinned" and clearly meant to be female. They stared at him, vacant and dead.

The leather hoods had great variations in thickness, padding and severity of confinement. The most severe of them was very thickly padded, had no holes except a half-inch grommet at the mouth, and was outfitted with straps to pull the hood even tighter after the laces were tied off. The laces themselves could be covered with a zippered flap which could be locked closed, so removal by the victim was impossible. It would be severe and extreme sensory deprivation.

"That one has your name on it," Alena said as she came out of the bathroom entirely nude except for thigh-high leather stiletto boots. She wielded the all too familiar flogger.

"No way. You're not getting that thing on me."

"Really? When I want to, I will. You have no idea what you're dealing with here, do you?" She strode toward him like a tigress to a kill.

"Wait," Neil said, "Okay, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm sorry Goddess."

She struck him on the back with the flogger then, causing him to yelp. "Don't worry; I won't touch your bruised ass this weekend. Too much damage there. But there are so many other places, so many other ways, to make you cry."

She was in full fantasy mode now, he realized, and that could only mean he was to be a sex object for her delight. He had a faint hope that it might be for his delight too, but he was in no position to demand it. It would be given if she chose.

Deep in his subconscious however, he understood that this is what he wanted, anything she administered is what he needed. It was food for his hungry psyche. He bowed his head, avoiding eye contact, and said with absolute sincerity, "I understand Goddess."

Pleased with him, she told him to lie down on her bed face up. He waited, breathless, as she slid onto the bed beside him.

"Make me cum slave," she whispered, as she positioned herself over his mouth, facing his feet. Remotely Neil was glad she had showered because her anus was directly in front of his nose as he started to stimulate her vagina and clitoris with his tongue. She was holding his penis now and bending forward, at the same time crushing herself on his face. Trying to please her, he worked her gently but furiously as she took him into her mouth.

The rising crescendo of the evening caught up to him then and he lost control, immediately filling her mouth with his fluids. She milked him dry as much as possible in consideration of the hurry she was in. Her mouth was full as she lifted herself off him and turned around to face him, un-swallowed cum contained within. Her look made Neil nervous, and then she plunged at his mouth, kissing him deeply and spitting all his juices inside him. She pulled back and squeezed his mouth shut with her hand and shouted, "YOU swallow it bitch! Don't EVER do that again! Is that clear? Jesus, I hate that! You bitch!"

The consistency and salty taste almost made him sick, but he swallowed and briefly gagged. He was afraid of her now, and knew he would pay a much higher price than swallowing his own cum. He lay there as she went to the bathroom to gargle something in her mouth. He wished he could do the same.

She returned, saying, "Jesus, who do you think you are, cumming in my mouth? Did I say you could cum in my mouth? Did I?"

"No Goddess. But you put it in your mouth and I thought..." he pleaded.

"Never assume anything with me. Never! Is that clear?"

"Yes Goddess," he meekly answered. The silence that followed was thick, and he thought maybe he had crossed a defining line. "Maybe I should go home," he said.

"What? You are naïve, aren't you? You're in bondage, in MY dungeon. You have no say in anything, get it? You're here for the weekend and I am going to train you to be respectful. Is that clear?"

"But I thought..." he stopped and then corrected, "Yes Goddess."

"Good. Now finish what you pathetically started."

Within minutes, she was writhing on top of his face, her full weight on him, cutting off all air supply as she came again and again. His consciousness was beginning to fade and his body started to buck under, her resulting in his release. He gasped as she lifted herself off and marched to the wall of hoods, selecting the one he had been most afraid of, and bringing it back to the bed.

"Obviously, you need some breath training. Sit up," she commanded, and then in forgetfulness she said, "Oh, wait, I forgot something." She threw the hood on his corseted waist and went to a dresser drawer, pulling out a device he was unsure of. It looked like a gag of some sort, but it had wings on it and it was hollow with an eight inch tube sticking out of the end. Another smaller tube also extended outward with a squeeze bulb on it.

"I just love this thing. It silences my victims so perfectly. Put this in your mouth. It's a butterfly gag."

The gag tube was inserted, followed by its attached rubber bladder which went between his teeth and cheeks. He closed his mouth over it and found he could breathe easily through the tube which dangled down to his chest. The strap was pulled around to the back of his head and buckled. Not bad, he thought. No pain.

Then she brought the leather hood to his face and threaded the breathing tube through the half-inch breathing hole in the hood. The bulb was removed from the smaller tube and it also was threaded through the hood hole. Replacing the bulb and with everything in place, the hood was pulled back over his face and all light was gone.

He felt the bed move as Alena repositioned herself to lace up the hood. Tighter and tighter, he started to panic, but could do nothing with his hands hanging uselessly at the side of his head. He felt a final tightening tug and then the tie-off and she stopped. He was just trying to mumble something when suddenly the bladder between his cheeks inflated, as well as the tube that was over his tongue. All he could muster was a panicked guttural noise originating somewhere in his chest. His breath came in quick gasps as he imagined he was running out of air; the breathing tube was so narrow. He scratched frantically at the hood as she positioned the flap over the laces and zipped it tight, locking it in place. All he could hear was his own breathing, and his heart beat became louder and louder as she tightened up the straps over his eyes and ears and locked them shut.

In the distance, or at least some place outside his present existence he heard, "Sleep tight. Rest for tomorrow."

He scrambled his fingers over the leather hood, feeling all the locks. She watched him in amusement. This was such an evil device, one which had broken greater men than he. If that gag had not been inserted, he would be talking to himself and his demons within half an hour. With the gag, he would imagine he was talking. He would imagine a lot of things, none of which were part of his reality right now. This was sensory deprivation at its finest. He was gone now. She and she alone, would create and manipulate his reality. She would caress him; she would isolate him; she would flog him, she would give him orgasms. And she would be swept up in the power of it, a prolonged orgy of orgasmic delight for the weekend...and longer if she chose. He might be the same at the end; he might not, but right now she didn't care.

She grabbed his sightless, soundless hooded head between her hands and stared at the bumps over his eye sockets which blocked all light and said, "Remember, I AM a psychopath." He didn't hear, of course, but what he said or heard didn't matter now anyway. Her loins almost gushed with desire as she pulled him up off the bed and placed him in the barred cell for the night. He stood there, uncertain as to what he should or could do, completely isolated from his environment.

Alena went to her bed, reached into her night table drawer and pulled out her favorite vibrator, placing it on the bed. She watched Neil inch around in his cell trying to figure out what was happening and where he was. As she bent over to remove her boots, juices squeezed out of her. She laid herself out, staring at her prey while orgasmic.

In the distance she heard faint moaning and whining, eventually morphing into attempted formation of words and sentences. It had started.

She fell asleep.