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The S & M Dungeon

by Soulo Jacob Bourgeau


Where I’m at is a completely pitch black room. My clothes are gone but I notice I am not cold in this place.

The floor is not a wrestling mat, but it feels like that.

Footsteps echo and creep closer down a long hallway outside my curious prison.

What this sounds like is a jailer coming to take me to the electric chair. Or electroshock therapy.

What this is is actually a pain shop of a different sort.

The shutter door slides open to reveal a pair of seductive eyes.

The onrush of sterile white light from the hall bathes that face in front of me so the whole image looks not unlike one of those tunnel-of-light-afterdeath dramatizations from the television I see.

And she is beautiful.

“Stripped? Good.” says the white queen. “We are going to have some fun if you obey. And if you behave, my assistant Dominatrix Monique will be joining us.”

I don’t know what started my hard on first, her sultry voice or what she said. This is either gonna be really fun or very painful. Possibly both.

The door opens and she walks in and past me. I can see now that the room is about 15 paces by 20. The walls are the same rubberized padding I noticed on the floor. There is a contraption not unlike an incline bench in a gym. I stare at the restraints and chains and I think I know where this is headed.

How I felt was like in one of those dreams you know you’re dreaming. I don’t know really where I am or why, but a scared anticipation chill singes my spine.

My eyes are adjusting to the dazzling light outside the door now and my white queen does an about face at the far wall and leers at me.


How she’s dressed is knee high panzer boots, but in patent leather. With stilettos. Her pants are black leather but either so tight or so thin that every crease and muscle striation and protruding hip bone is visible as though suffocated tightly in black saran wrap.

The queen’s blond hair is not all too long and it’s gathered taught in a leather ponytail with a 4" stainless steel skewer through it. She is tan though her makeup is dark. Thick black lashes and jet mascara. Her lipstick is blood red lined in black.

A Glam/Goth seductress isn’t the exact description, but it’s what comes to mind.

She wears a riveted black choker with a silver talisman dangling, looks demonic. Her top is a black leather corset. Her nipples nearly punch through the taught material. Long silk gloves slither up her arms like snakes swallowing whole their prey. A silver serpentine arm bracelet entwines around her sculpted left bicep. She has what looks like a cat-o-nine-tails hanging from her hip and a studded black belt around her waist. Her navel is diamond pierced.

My own personal Cat Woman from Hades.

Meow, Batman.

She grabs me by the chin and says, “My name is Madame X but you cannot speak it until you do as I command. For now, you will call me only Queen.”

I quiver with excitement and my cock is throbbing for her now.

“For the next 30 minutes you will do as I say. You are my slave and I will punish you as I see fit. You will cum how I want you to cum. You will fuck me, boy, as I tell you to fuck me. And you will obey or else.”

As I stand in aroused amazement, her assistant Monique comes into the room and ties me to the bench. She lowers the bench a notch and extends braces to the sides and at the bottom. “Fucking sit on the bench, boy – And do as my Queen commands!” Monique’s voice has a velvety timbre to it. I imagine to myself what she sounds like when she moans. As I lay in the contraption, I am not sitting upright yet I am not supine. A forty five degree angle would describe it best. She pulls the leather arm and leg bands taught and buckles them shut.

Monique takes three paces back and evaluates her work as I evaluate her. Her hair is also raked tight and gathered into a leather clasp. She shakes her head side to side and her thick black ponytail comes to rest draped over her right side like ravens flowing over her shoulder all the way down to her waist. Her lips are also bloody red. And bee-stung.

Think Liv Tyler in Hell.

Monique has the kind of perky bee cup tits you’d only see on a sixteen year old girl if you were allowed to notice such things. Her nipples spike through her top like eraser heads. She apparently shops at the same scandalous boutique as my lovely Queen, their pants and boots are the same. But Monique’s top is a shimmering Lycra creation which stretches from her left shoulder to her right hip. Her belly button is pierced with a silver dragon biting a crystal orb.

“Well done, my pet,” my Queen says to Monique as she assertively grasps her by the ponytail and sticks her tongue deep down her throat. Monique’s left hand is between the Queen’s thighs as her right creeps up and behind the dominatrix’s neck.

“You need to learn the ways of controlling a man, Girl. Tonight is your first lesson. I found you an excellent specimen in this male in front of you. It took nothing more than a flicker of my lash and a potion in his drink to capture my prey. He thought himself a player, a controller of women! Now he is but an insect in our web, my dear. He is a typical alpha male who needs to learn that women control this world.”

I’m pretty sure I’m going to have the night of my life, so I bite my lip.

‘Pussy-envy’ isn’t the right term, but it’s the first that comes to mind. I do not smile.


***

05/20/2004

Author's Note: I'm not this kinky! This was an attempt to write like Chuck Palahniuk and I had just read "Choke" - another tale that appeals to the prurient interests. He is amazing at character description and this was an exercise in that. Wish I could show my parents this one though...

Posted on 05/31/2005
Copyright © 2024 Soulo Jacob Bourgeau

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