As I walked into the room, she slowly wrestled herself from the chains of sleep. Dazily she looked about, gasping as she attempted to take in her surroundings. Blindfolded in the darkness on her knees with shackles about her wrists and ankles, she remained in her position like a good girl. The darkness of the room, pierced only by the faint glow of the strands of LED lights about the walls, was complete. I smiled as I saw her kneeling there moving slowly back and forth wiggling, testing the bonds of her constraints, and trying to see that which she could not behold. She knew she was trapped, she was bound and gagged, and she was perfection. “But I have never truly been in a scene in which I felt completely helpless. To me, your limit as a Dom is much nearer to vanilla than that of myself as a sub. I trust you completely and want to experience more, and I do not feel as though you would, or even could, push me past my limits.” Amber confided to the living room. Sitting on the couch, Amber barely made eye contact with me, though we sat directly across from each other. It felt as though she was ashamed to admit such a dark secret especially in front of our contemporaries. A truth which I could not deny, she needed more than I could give. Jen, sitting to Amber’s right, turned to look toward her hidden face. Mike, cool as always, reclined on his sofa, that I shared at present, and crossed his legs. He drew a long breath and looked into the eyes of Jen. I could barely tell at the time, but this was a sign that they had been here before. Not with us, but with themselves. They were journeymen to us as apprentices. They nodded slowly to each other as I opened my mouth. “And I admit as much,” I readily confessed to the room. “After all, it is hard to be a caring husband and at the same time be the Dom that you want, but more importantly that you need.” I slammed the door behind me as I started to cross the room towards her. She jumped at the sound as I moved toward her slowly, methodically. I went to her side and stood there for a second, watching her quake. Exposed in the air of the room, her skin glistened in the low, dim light of her cellar. Her brown hair and ample curves glowed as they trailed from her neck all the way down to her toes, flowing with the beauty of an elegant river. I looked her over again, admiring the form in front of me, all the while accepting the raging animal inside myself. She wanted to be used, and I wanted to use her. I wanted to force her to do things I had never done, and that she had never done. Carnal things, of longing and desire. The sort of animalistic things that no caring husband should ever do to his loving wife. With the voice modulator on, I whispered to her, “Good evening, whore.” She moaned back through the ball gag in acknowledgment. I reached down slowly between her legs and found the rod I had placed earlier. Deliberately, I pulled the shaft off the bed between her spread legs, making sure to ever so gently rub over her sex. She cooed like a dove and the smooth shaft tugged at her. Gently, I slid the rod along her body, probing every nook and cranny, leaving no stone unturned. My member throbbed in time with her moans of pleasure. Placing the rod on the bed beside her, I reached forward and undid the ball gag. She gasped as she was able to close her mouth for the first time in several minutes. “Rule 1,” the low raspy voice produced by the modulator sent a shiver down her spine. She could not tell it was me, for the first time in all of our time together, I could truly see how she really acted. “You obey, or you are punished. Major infractions are breaking of these rules, as set forth, in a repeated fashion and will be punished with a hard smack. The hardness is as such,” I grabbed the rod and smacked down against the bed beside her. She almost jumped as the rod made contact with the soft surface of the bed. “All other infractions, including direct orders from me, will be punished at one-quarter strength. However, should you decide to consistently refuse to follow orders, you will be punished in an increasingly hard manner. Do you agree to and understand this rule?” “Yes.” I listened as she spoke to see if I could detect a sense of hesitation in her voice. There was none. “How very interesting,” I thought to myself, “when as your husband I would punish you at far less that even a quarter strength, you cringe and want nothing to do with the punishments. But here, you welcome them, almost defiantly.” “But wait, maybe she knows it is me and that I would never hit her that hard….maybe she knows this is a game. If she does think this is me and just a game, she is in for a rude awakening.” “Rule 2,” I began again in a low voice, “The first and last word out of your mouth will be Sir. Do you understand and agree?” “Sir, yes Sir.” “Rule 3,” I continued with greater volume, “You will not speak unless I speak directly to you and ask for a response. Do you understand and agree?” “Sir, yes Sir.” “Rule 4, you will refrain from orgasm unless directly requested by me. Do you understand and agree?” “Sir, yes Sir.” She was starting to quiver on the bed. I could sense the fluids beginning to build up inside and out. “Rule 5, you will determine your word for stopping the scene completely. What is your word?” “Sir, red Sir.” “Well, let us hope that you will not need to use it this evening. Rule 6, you will determine your back off word. When the scene is becoming too much and you need a minute to collect yourself. What is your word?” “Yellow” “Excuse me?” She clenched up for a second and looked toward my voice in the room. “Sir, yellow Sir.” “Much better. Let that be your warning. You will not get another.”
“Hey Greg?” I asked trying to start a conversation. “What’s up?” He continued working on the contraption with hardly a glance at me. “So Amber and I,” I trailed off for a minute. “Well we have been discussing things.” I stopped for a second. This was incredibly difficult. I mean, maybe he would think I was a creep or something. “Things?” Greg barely looked up from the socket as he responded to me. “What types of things?” “Well, we have been talking about how she has desires that I am unable to fulfill.” I wanted to hide my face, and just go away. That would have been easier for me. I mean after all, it is hard enough to admit that you are unable to satisfy your wife in a vanilla community, but in our community of more…shall we say ‘enlightened’ individuals, it seemed foreign to me. “Oh.” He did not even try to meet my eyes, which were fixed straight at the floor. “Yeah. See she, has fantasies and wants to try things, but as her husband, as her lover, I can’t even really think of myself as doing those things.” This was stupid…I felt like I was a school kid that had done something wrong and was admitting as much to the principal. I would readily admit to wrong doing, but confessing an inability to satisfy my lover was a different matter entirely. “Ahh.” He wiped his hands on the towel in front of him and stood to look at me. “Why do you look so ashamed?” I didn’t even try to answer him. “Mike, it’s not like you are the first person that has wondered how they can please their partner more.” He smiled at me, “In fact there is an entire industry devoted to helping men provide more enjoyment to women. I mean Viagra, dildos, those little tickling things, hell even penis pumps.” I smiled back, “I know, but is still an odd conversation to have with someone other than Amber.” “I understand your reticence, but it is a good thing that you know your limitations enough to seek out help when you have questions. So how can I help?” “I have an idea; what do you think about….” “Excuse me!?” Whack! The sound of the cane hitting her was dulled by only the slim cushion of flesh on her end. She tried to leap forward when the cane made contact and let out a yelp. “Sir. I am sorry Sir.” She was shaking now with the intense pain of the caning. “And why are you a sorry slut?” I calmed down completely before responding to her and fishing for the reason she was sorry. “Sir, I keep refusing to call you sir, Sir.” She shifted slightly and drew in a ragged breath. She exhaled slowly as she continued, “Sir, I am also struggling and speaking when I should not be, Sir.” The sound of her voice, cracking under the duress of the scene was like a charger for the animal instincts that consumed me. She knelt there, bound in front of me; I had complete control. “What is the word for if the scene is too intense?” “Sir, yellow Sir.” “And have you felt the need to utter that word so far tonight?” “Sir, no Sir.” Slowly, I moved the rod about in the air and with the striking end, I began to run it along her body again. At first, moving deliberately over every inch of her skin. Caressing her body with the touch of tightly bound leather all the while she laid there on the bed, my hostage. The rod made contact with her hardening nipples as the cool air of her dungeon circulated through the fan in the corner of the room. She purred as the leathery skin of the cane brushed up and down along her exposed nipples sending wave after wave of pleasurable pain down her spine. The fine hair of her back raised slightly as I perused her breasts. I leisurely continued to traverse her body, casually maneuvering about her landscape from nipples to neck. Gently, I stroked her where she enjoyed being choked so much. Sliding ever so delicately down the divide of her spine, I moved the shaft of the cane over her throbbing bottom. Even in the dim light, I could see the red badge of punishment she wore. I massaged the affected area with the shaft tenderly, before smacking her softly. “You are being a good girl.” I dragged the rod through the inside of her legs and found her exposed sex waiting exactly where it should be. “Sir, thank you Siiiirrrr.” As she started to speak, the shaft reached her sex and she arched her back and softly moaned to me. I repeated the process of rubbing the leather of the rod against her pleasure zone again and again. Each time I dragged the rod against her sex, she forced herself down trying to feel the full effect of the rod against her. Moving around to the back left side of her, I forced the stick against her, feeling the resistance and the ecstasy that radiated out from that spot. With my left hand, I grabbed the stick and continued the relentless messaging of her pleasure zone, over and over, soaking the skin of her punishment device in the juice of pleasure. My right hand free, I forced her hungry little mouth open and plunged my index and pointer fingers up inside her. I slid in with very little resistance; she gasped and tried to force herself farther onto my fingers. With all of her might she tried as hard as she could to get me deeper. I pulled my hand away from her hungry little mouth and stopped the thrumming of her sex. “If you do not stop trying to struggle against your restraints, I will be forced to apply certain persuasion to ensure adherence to the rules. Do you understand?” “Sir, yes Sir.” “Can you continue to be a good girl?” “Sir, yes Sir.” Resuming the feverish pace of the leather clad shaft moving to and fro against her zone, she was finding it difficult to form words. Sir was starting to slur together with yes and each utterance of the three word answer was half moan, half word. “Good. Now let’s try this again.” This time instead of gingerly moving her lips as I slid my fingers inside her, I forced them in; penetrating her as deep as I was able. When my fingers reached their deepest point, I spread them apart and rubbed her spot. I could feel the pulsating of her cavity caused not only by my incessant probing but also the stimulation of her sex with the cane. Her breathing hastened, she convulsed as I extracted my fingers and plunged them back in immediately. Caressing the inside of her cavity, as though I was moving my fingers about in a warm pair gloves, I poured over every inch of her insides attempting to make her climax. I wanted to push her to her limits, I wanted her to orgasm. I felt her pulse quicken even further as I continued my assault, knees shaking, breath ragged, and fists clenched against the hard shackles about her wrists. “I have a task for you whore.” I continued to feverishly stroke her sex with the rod and penetrate her with my fingers. “I am going to allow you to climax. However, you must do so within the next 60 seconds. Should you fail, you will not be allowed to orgasm. Do you understand?” “Sir, yes Sir.” “Also, you will count back from 30. You will start when I tell you. Do you understand?” At the end of my question I threw the rod down and grabbed her clit with my fingers, turning it over, all the while drilling deeper into her. “S…ye..S..r.” She tried as hard as she could, but I was not making this easy for her. She convulsed forward and backward, she was not trying to struggle, but this was intense, she was reaching levels of pleasure not easily attained. Her breath grew shallow, and her heart raced as I probed her insides, again and again. “Start counting.” “Sir, yesssss Sssssiiiiirrrrr. 30…..29…28.” “Faster. In time with actual time. Not with made up time.” I was being cruel to her. I forced my ring finger in with the other two. Plummeting her into further pleasure as on she counted. “20..19…18…17…” The pace at which I was violating her crescendoed as each number she uttered turned into a vague reference to an actual number and a moan or stammer. “elllven, tenene, nnniiiinnnneeee.” She was shaking uncontrollably. She was holding on to the ecstasy within and it was causing her to sweat profusely. Time stood still as I plummed the depths of her pleasure, rubbing her sex ever more furiously. Her cavity contracted around my fingers as I heard her get to three. She was right there. “Two…OnnnAHHHHHHH!” She climaxed the hardest I had seen in a very long time. Screaming the time, she forced herself back and forth with the motion of my fingers, grinding them deeper inside, moaning the entire way. I released her sex, and continued focusing on her insides. She slowed in rhythm and let her head, which had been level with her back, sink to the bed as she collapsed in her shackles. “Good girl.” I watched her for a moment as she lay there shaking in the sweat of the climax she won. Convulsing from the aftershocks, like a major earthquake, her breath remained erratic as the continued euphoria engulfed her like the waves of a tsunami. I watched in awe, the woman I loved, the love of my life, writhing in pleasure as I slowly moved my fingers in and out deliberately allowing the experience to continue. Gently, I withdrew my fingers and went over to the shadows behind her and grabbed the bowl of warm water and the towels. I returned to her side and with the implements in hand, I knelt next to her. She was being very good. Resisting the temptation to talk with me and (aside from a few examples) was very respectful of the established protocol for the evening. She was my goddess and in the gentle light of the room, I knelt to her and worshipped on our altar. I had no delusions about being a God, for I was not one, but like Jesus before me, humility and love for those that chose to follow me was of utmost importance. As he washed the feet of his disciples, so must I wash away the stains of battle from her beautiful skin. Dipping the towel in warm liquid, I let the water soak. The water in the bowl was hot, almost scaldingly so. As I waited for the towel to saturate, the hot water penetrated my hands and I wanted to withdraw them, but refused. I put her through the pain of the lashings. I forced her to submit to me tonight. I would atone for those things. I saw it as a way to ground myself, to remind me of the actual pain that I inflicted on her. I shall atone, I shall remember the pain, and I would not inflict more than I could myself bear. It was not that I enjoyed pain, far from it, I shied away at the very thought of intense physical pain. Mental anguish on the other hand…well…that was something that kind of came with the territory, though psychological torture was not my cup of tea. But I saw this as my duty to her. I force her to suffer things and I must endure them first. She did not know, the countless floggings and lashings, though self-administered, that I forced myself to deal with before allowing them to be forced upon her. She was my Aphrodite and I worshipped her. I did not wish to injure her, and as the Goddess, I saw contemplation of causing her injury as an affront to nature. With the scalding water flowing around my hands in the bowl, my carnal instincts and desires subsided. I was balanced, I was brought to atone. Pulling the towel out of the water, I wrung it out and felt the water slip through my fingers back into the bowl. Waiting an instant for the saturated towel to cool, I caressed her with the soft, soaked cotton. She exhaled softly, and I could feel her pulse slowing back to normal levels. I continued to honor her with the towel, wiping from head to toe down the length of her back. I probed the inside of every crevasse and massaged the towel against her, releasing the tension of the earlier climax. Returning the towel to the bowl to soak for a minute, I crawled around her on the floor and undid her restraints. Seeing her start to stir from the bed I said in a soft reassuring voice, “Stay.” “Sir, yes, Sir.” Her voice had almost completely returned. Standing, I returned to her side, and helped her lay flat on the bed. Wringing out the towel again, I stretched the warmth out upon her body and returned to my knees beside her. I moved my hands about her body, spreading her legs and arms on the bed, returning her to comfort as I did. Running my hands across the towel, I savored the feel of the cloth skin she acquired. Starting with her neck, I rotated my hands about her flesh, slowly unwinding the tension, feeling the muscles pull back as I did. She moaned gradually as I worked across her upper back with zealous intent. I wanted to make her understand that respect and devotion given is respect and devotion received. Slowly, I found my way to her bottom and without trace of carnal intent, massaged her gently so as not to reinjure her. Moving down her legs, she stretched out further relaxing deeply as I went about my work. With her on her stomach, I proceeded to move from her legs to her scalp, and with the palms of my hands, moved about her temples, releasing the last lingering tension in her head and forcing it out. I stood and removed her warm blanket. Grabbing for the other towel, I gingerly dried her supple body, moving over her with deliberate care. She was a lamb and I the shepherd. “Roll over.” I gently asked her, replacing the soaked towel into the bowl for a third time. Helping her onto her back, I saw that she was still blindfolded and I could finally behold her glorious form in full. I waited to grab the towel for an instant so I could absorb the sheer splendid form of the goddess before me. She was the canvas and I the painter. Not in the sense that I determined her beauty, nor that I created her beauty, but I created the conditions necessary to bring out the beauty of her form. I marveled at her splendor, splendor which had been cast aside by others and which belonged to me. She was mine, and she owned me. Unfurling the towel over her torso, I sighed as I lost the sight of my beauty bathed in the warmth of a cotton shield. Moving to the top of her body, I reached forward and cradled her head in my hands. I stroked her hair with the back of my hand and then ran my fingers back through again. She cooed as I moved about her head, gently eroding the tension that existed. Moving about her front, I continued eviscerating the stress and releasing the strain I caused. I stayed away from her nipples as well as her pleasure spot, making sure not to cause undue tension. She relaxed completely and I felt her pass from me into a complete nirvana, fueled by the release of pain and pleasure. I finished with her front by toweling her off and removing the implements to the corner of the room. Returning to her, I removed the voice modulator and looked at her shielded eyes. I slowly reached for her blindfold. “You were a very good girl tonight. I am very proud of you.” “Sir?” She seemed confused, as though someone spoke to her that she did not expect. “Yes.” I removed her blindfold and smiled at her wryly. Adjusting to the light in the room, she squinted to see me standing over her. She smiled back at me realizing that I was truly with her. “Is everything alright?” I asked as a check to make sure she was okay. “Sir. I knew it all along Sir.” I moved to her side and rolled her facing away from me. “Did you now?” I grabbed the blankets from the pile on the floor, fine down blankets of the softest material. Nothing too good for my goddess. I stretched them out over her freshly clean body, softly, as I watched her form slip beneath the covers. “Sir, you may have given me a few hints Sir.” I lay beside her on the bed, maneuvered my arm over her, protecting her from the universe and wrapping her gently in loves embrace. “What clues?” “Sir, when you said good evening, it is exactly how you say good night when I am in bed and you are not Sir. It was not your tone that mattered, but the tenderness in your voice that betrayed you, Sir.” “Clever girl.” I held her tight to me and kissed the back of her neck gently. She sighed and snuggled against my front. “Good night.” “Sir, good night Sir.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticstories/comments/2xmsaw/her_dungeon_m