When I accidentally found Shane’s hidden torture chamber, a fifteen feet by fifteen foot room of raw cinder block lit by a sputtering fluorescent light, I froze in horror. A wide vinyl dentist’s like chair with thick leather wrist and ankle restraints took up the center of the room. A dental light was twisted and propped over the chair and a steel dental tray holding little stainless steel instruments of torture glittered beside it. Manacles hung bolted to a wall. Photos of scantily dressed women covered a cork board on the wall. On a rolling table sat a machine with meters and dials and electrode wire leads with pincers like jumper cables. Were the splatters at my feet blood or paint? It’s all so frightening. So why do I trust him and am so ready to indulge his fantasies? That’s the power my client has over women. As Shane and I walked down into the basement, to his secret room, I began to have second thoughts.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I said.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Come on.”
I timidly followed him down the stairs, ready to bolt at any moment like a cautious doe.
He flicked on the lights before pushing the wall’s hidden door which unlocked with a click. He pulled it open, turned on the overhead light and entered. I stood at the door reluctant about entering a room where I could possibly be killed, but there was something in his eyes that begged for sympathy so I entered, leaving the door wide open behind me. I looked at the chair, wondering how I was going get through this. I don’t like being restrained. I like being in control at all times.
Shane said, “I didn’t understand why am the way I am for the longest time; why this twisted shit turns me on, but in my twenties, I decided not question or fight it anymore and just accept it as part of who I am.”
He rolled the machine to the chair.
He said, “The problem is, it’s hard to find people to play with me. I have to pay femdoms big money and it’s hard to get them out here. So I don’t get to do this very often.”
To my surprise, he sat in the chair and reclined.
“Strap me in,” he said.
I just stood there, dumbly mute.
“You said you wanted to help me. So help me. Strap me down.”
I strapped his wrists down, placing the thick leather straps into heavy unbreakable buckles and securing them before bending to secure his ankles. His breathing deepened as I rose to look into his eyes intensely transfixed upon me as he wriggled his wrists against their bonds.
“Hit the pedal with your foot.”
My foot pressed the side pedal and the chair rose and reclined.
“Take off your shirt.”
I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and took it off. He stared at my breasts that filled the pink bra. I didn’t flinch under his gaze, waiting for his next order.
“You have nice tits.”
“Thanks.”
“They’re real,” he said as his hand strained against its restraint as if he were trying to grasp something tantalizingly out of reach.
“Turn on the machine.”
I walked around the chair to flick on the main switch of the machine. The dials lit up and the needles on the meters jumped into the red zone before settling back down to zero.
“Pull out my dick and balls.”
I let out a heavy sigh before my fingers reached into the fly of his flannel pajama bottoms to pull out his flaccid girth. His dick flopped against pajamas as I dragged out his balls which I stared at it as though it was some otherworldly creature.
He said, “Okay, this is important, so pay attention.”
My gaze returned to his eyes.
“Turn the knob no higher than one. Give it to me in a three second burst. And don’t touch me when the juice is on. Got it?”
I nodded.
“Now hook the electrodes on my balls. On the skin under my scrotum.”
“No.”
“Do it.”
He barely reacted as I gently tugged his ball sack skin, stretching it to put on the first pincer. I did the same with the other, clipping it to the seam running beneath his balls. Standing back I looked at him waiting for the next direction.
“Now talk dirty to me.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Humiliate me.”
I didn’t know what to say but after thinking about it for a moment, I tapped into my own anger of being stuck out here in the middle of the wilderness trying to whip an album out of a petulant rock star.
“You’ve been a very bad boy. Making me come up here you sorry sack of shit.”
“Pull down your pants. Now bend over and back into me.”
I did. His tongue barely licked my thigh as he strained against his bonds.
“Back up,” he said gruffly.
With my jeans around my ankles, I shuffled back and his tongue dug into my back door pussy lips. My back arched as his tongue went further down to find my clit and he teased it, panting deep breaths like a fetching dog. I looked at the cinder block wall, at the manacles and whips, while a rock star tongued me. With every flick of his skilled tongue, well-practiced from years of tasting women, I was getting wetter with each passing second until he abruptly stopped. I looked over my shoulder to see his dick engorged. I looked into his intense eyes.
“Shock me,” he said.
I straightened up, turned to face him and said, “I don’t like hurting people.”
“Do it!”
I turned the knob to one, making the meter needle flutter at fifteen. His finger gripped the padded arms as he stiffened a bit, his eyes looked wild and vacant and after a count of three, I turned it down to zero.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” crept out of him, before he sighed and settled back down.
“Again.”
I turned the knob to one. He gave a stifled grunt as his finger flew open before I turned it down again.
“Put some oil on your hand and palm my dick head.
A bottle of oil was on a shelf under the machine so I grabbed it, squeezed some oil into my and started to jack him off.
“No, don’t. Just the head.”
I curled my palm to cup his dick’s smooth head, squeezing and palming it like a stick shift. He squirmed and his legs jerked against their restraints every time I hit the sweet spots on his engorged dick.
“Juice me.”
I did what I was told, withdrawing my hand from his slippery shaft to give him another jolt. A beastly grunt came from deep within him until I turned it off. I palmed his penis again. He squirmed and arched his back, letting out a long guttural groan as his cock jerked and I let go of him as white viscous cum spurted up over his shirt.
For some odd reason I knew what to do and gave him a brief jolt, much shorter than the others and he stiffened and relaxed. Cum oozed from his twitching penis, still pumping from his constricted balls. He fell back against the chair thoroughly spent.
I pulled my pants up over my wet snatch. Shane inhaled sharply as I tenderly removed the electrodes from his balls. Little white gobs were still dribbling from him as I unbuckled his legs and arms. His eyes were still rolling in his head, his mouth still agape as he lay there breathing hard.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He took a breath and licked his lips before his head lolled my way.
He grinned at me, with a throaty chortle.
“Fuck yeah, girl, I’m fine,” he said. “I’m great.”
>From [Mistress of the Secret Room](http://www.amazon.com/Mistress-Secret-Room-Julianne-Sparks-ebook/dp/B01E0RI67C/). Available at Amazon. **FREE** on KindleUnlimited!
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/4hbjt0/in_his_secret_room_mfbdsmoralmast