The Dungeon

My slave collar is hidden under the collar of my coat, so as Sir and I walk into the street door of the dungeon, we look like any other couple. I am carrying my ordinary clothes in a bag, as I am wearing what Sir directed ... a flimsy set of underwear, an old dress, all of which he can cut or rip from my body. From the moment we walk through the door, I am under instructions to be silent, respectful, and without a will of my own. This I can do easily, I feel, as I know Sir and trust him absolutely.

I am lead into a room full of instruments of humiliation and torture. My eagerness wavers a bit. Fantasy is one thing ... this is flesh and whip reality. I try to look around me but Sir says softly 'look at the floor, not at the weapons, not at me' and I obey. Without a word, He pulls off my dress and drags me across the floor to lay me on a bench, pushing my arms and legs to hang down each side of the bench: my head hangs over one end. My wrists are cuffed together under the bench, and my ankles. My black leather hood is fitted into place, blinding me, partially muffling sound, only a mouth hole for breathing through.

As I lie helpless in front of him, I can hear Sir's breathing change and I know that he is excited. This will mean pain for me ... but also pleasure, if Sir allows it. He may not.

Blind and bound, every moment is like an eternity of nervousness till Sir's hands quickly rip apart the panties I am wearing, and He finishes the job with cold, cold scissors, drifting the steel blades over my labia and clit, pressing gently, reminding me how helpless I am. He rips and cuts my bra off too and without ceremony reaches into my pussy to check if I am wet. And of course I am. 'Hm' is all he says, but the disapproval in his tone worries me. I have been well told in advance that tonight is for His pleasure, not mine. I hear movement and tremble. When the flogger lashes at my exposed pussy I am not surprised but the strength of Sir's disapproval is in the lash, six hard strokes.

His warm hands drift over my breasts, tweaking the nipples, then twisting them till I gasp with pain. He checks my pussy again, roughly, and is not pleased with what he finds there. Without a word he strides a little way away ... I hear the clanking of chains and I shiver. He returns, loosens my bonds and helps me, none too gently, to my feet; drags me a little distance. Having had that brief glimpse of all the horrors of the dungeon, I am very, very worried.

Sir lifts my right leg and passes it over some hard wooden thing on the floor. More clanking of chains, while the wooden bar is lifted up between my legs, my thighs, till it is pressing against my pussy. Casually, my labia are parted and positioned one on each side of the wooden bar, and centimetre by centimetre, the chains are clanked and the bar rises deeper inside me till it almost lifts me off my feet. It hurts. I hold on to it with both hands till my hands are raised and chained above me. I rise to my tiptoes to get away from the pain and Sir cranks the chains a little more so that now I cannot rest back down again onto the soles of my feet: I am soon shaking with the exertion of standing on my tiptoes, and I have no choice but to sink onto the bruising hard sharp edge of the wood, deeper inside me, my whole weight suspended on my pussy. The pain is too much ... with difficulty I rise onto my tiptoes again but my legs are shaking and I know I will not be able to hold this position for long. Knowing that in moments I will have that hard pain inside me is bad enough, but suddenly I feel the soft stroke of the flogger on my back, and know that Sir wishes me to suffer pain in more than one area ... for his amusement.

After a few warm-up strokes, Sir settles into his hard-flogging rhythm and I am in such pain, between my pussy and my legs and my back, that the world is just a fog of pain and misery ... I cannot find anything erotic in this, and I am ready to weep, when the flogging stops and I feel Sir's warm fingers on my clitoris. To my embarrassment and horror, I cum almost immediately. The pain and pleasure mix as I jerk upon that unyielding, hurtful wooden bar.

"Slut" He says softly. And I know that though He made it happen to me, He is not pleased that I came, especially without asking for His permission. I will pay for that orgasm.

I am almost falling down with exhaustion now, and mercifully I hear the chains clanking again and the wooden pony sinks down out of my bruised, dripping cunt and towards the floor. I hardly have time to breathe again, though, before Sir yanks my collar and lead, and hauls me in another direction, positioning me very precisely, hard against what feels like a wooden wall. But it is not a wall. My arms are stretched up and out, and clamped to boards ... the same with my feet. I have been secured to a St Andrew's Cross.

His fingers ram hard into my pussy with no warning. I try not to gasp, but the sudden friction as he plunges in and out of me is too exciting, I cannot resist, my back arches, out of control and I try to twist and turn till some part of some finger touches my swollen clit. Of course He knows what I am doing because He knows me ... and he stops. I hear him walk across the stone floor, press a buzzer, and then return. Who has he called?? Is there food or drink coming? I realise how thirsty I am, and I hope desperately for water.

The door opens and someone comes in. Not a word is exchanged between this someone and Sir ... whatever is going on has been planned well in advance of our arrival tonight. Blind behind my mask, I am now extremely nervous. And when I hear two sets of booted feet approaching my body, the nerves turn to real fear. I am totally exposed and vulnerable, and Sir has brought another pair of eyes to feast upon my humiliation! A stranger! Rough hands pull my labia apart .. I think they are His hands ... and His voice says coldly 'There is the cunt for your use ... use it as you see fit'. Oh no. I am trembling with fear now and I think a little pee has escaped and is trickling down my legs. I am blushing with shame.

Sir's hands now cup my breasts, lifting them gently and letting them fall.

"She has reasonable tits" he says in a business-like manner "and she can take a fair bit of pain there. And on her ass. And her cunt, of course. Enjoy yourself. Think I'll go get a hamburger or something .. want anything? No? Okay .. see you in half an hour or so then." And I hear his feet heading to the door, the door opening and closing, and silence. Then the silence is shattered by very loud music -- Ravel's Bolero -- crashing about my ears.

Even if I was permitted to speak, which I am not, I would not be able to say a word, I am so appalled at what my Master has done. Does he know this man? Is this another Master, or just a player? Is it even a man? Am I safe?

I don't have much time to think, because my labia are grabbed and pulled down, hard. I yelp with pain and am rewarded by having both breasts slapped, also hard. I manage to shut up. Biting my lip, I struggle to stay silent while my thighs are roughly pushed apart, a hot hand opens up my labia and a thick, long cock is rammed inside my cunt. I am so wet that this does not hurt, but I am in emotional agony. My body betrays me ... as always ... I may be in emotional pain but my cunt is grabbing this battering ram of a cock and squeezing it and when fingers start rubbing at my clit, I explode immediately. Humiliation does this to me. I am so ashamed. But there is no time for that -- his fingers keep rubbing at my clit, which as I have just cum is very sensitive, and it hurts badly for a few moments and then begins to respond. To my horror, I am moaning and arching again, aching for another orgasm, trembling all over.

"Please" I beg him.

"Please what?" The voice is thick with lust, a deep male voice.

"Please Sir may I cum?"

No answer, but his fingers continue at my clit and his cock continues to thrust deep into my soaking cunt. I am not sure whether his silence means that I can cum or not; but my clit is about to explode again and his fingers rub ever more gently there. I can feel the orgasm beginning ... and he takes his fingers away, takes his cock out of me.

"No" he says, calmly.

I can feel the wetness flowing down my shaking thighs .. did he cum? Or is all that my own juices? I'm past caring, all I can think about is the orgasm which still threatens to take over, the need for release, the certainty of punishment if I cum and the terrible desperate need to cum and the fact that this stranger is looking at me, knowing what a state I am in, his fingers now pulling and twisting at my nipples, digging in with his fingernails, knowing he is pushing me over the edge and daring me to do it, to let go, to explode with pleasure knowing that pain will follow swift and hard.

I am almost giving in to my own needs, allowing the swelling of my clit to build up to the point where I can no longer resist, when suddenly I am off my feet and the clanking of chains moves the Cross round forty five degrees so that I am lying sideways.

"Better" says my tormentor, and pushes his cock into my mouth, and grinds his hips so that my throat is invaded over and over again, just (he is astute!) to the point of my gagging and no more.

And then ... to my horror ... while he is fucking my mouth, another cock slides into my cunt! Who the hell ...? I have no breath to ask with ... I have no mind of my own ... I am dissolving in lust, my insides are turning to warm liquid, and despite the best efforts of what is left of my mind, my whole body is shaking again, my mouth and my cunt wet and eager and sucking and clenching, no longer 'me' ... just a greedy, lustful slut with a huge appetite for cock which is being most plentifully fed.

Both cocks withdraw: I sense, rather than hear, the two men changing positions ... this time, the one fucking my mouth is crushing my breasts, just enough to hurt deliciously and that little bit more which demands submission ... the one fucking my cunt is gently teasing my clit. My mouth is full of cock so I cannot ask for permission to cum, but my body must be showing them all too clearly how soaked in lust I have become, how my back is arching again, my hips shuddering, my breathing changing as they increase their fucking and their tormenting till finally without permission I cum, bucking and screaming, a mighty orgasm which leaves me quaking and exhausted. I hang limply on the Cross awaiting the inevitable punishment ... but none comes.

Instead, the Cross is clanked right way up again and my bonds are loosened. I can hardly stand, and two pairs of strong arms support and guide me to a soft, comfortable seat, where I am positioned without bonds, but with my arms placed behind my back. Someone opens my mouth with his hands, and I feel two rock hard cocks prodding inside there, my lips stretched as far as they can go, my well trained tongue working busily to lick each cock as they both tremble towards orgasm, and in moments, two jets of cum hit the back of my throat ... I swallow obediently and hang my head.

After a minute or so, I feel the ties of my leather hood being undone, and it is gently lifted off me. Blinking in the light I open my eyes to find ... my Master, handing me a glass of champagne! And another man I have never met before. They are grinning at me. I am confused. My Master leans down and whispers softly in my ear;

'Did you really think I had forgotten your birthday?'

Ye gods, I adore that man!