The Dungeon I
On ecru initialed paper the understanding was brutally clear … You’re to be blindfolded and waiting on your knees for your Master. I reread a couple of times, my hands shaking with both fear of the unknown and the excitement of being delivered to the brink of aching pleasure. Man, I was fucked!
Folding the note in half perfectly seaming the edges, I wondered if I was biting off more than I could chew. The fluttering in my stomach mounted to upchuck levels as I picked up the Hermes silk scarf. I gentled it along my cheek before breathing in his alpha scent. Him. My eyes closed of their own accord, heart beating in concert with my pussy. My clit was charged and primed already with my juices, the inner demonness scratching the surface of my psyche, relentlessly thrashing against confinement.
Twirling around in a sexual dream-state, my eyes took in floor-to-ceiling windows, lush drapes pulled back. Gasping heavily, I held my hand over my heart to keep the fucker in there. Was he planning to take me in the open—voyeur delight? I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Then again this was about surrendering. A place my control had no say.
On the left was a free-standing bar, his guitar leaning against it. Chrystal decanters lined the top. Amber-colored courage called out to my parched throat, begging, needing something to quell the tremors plaguing my body. I couldn’t. Could I? Or was that breaking the rules? I couldn’t afford to piss him off, nor did I want to. I wanted to please him, to hand over the keys to my soul for him to take up occupancy. I needed to take purchase of the prime piece of real-estate—his heart.
Old demons besieged me with their clever mind tricks, fighting their way to the surface—sneering that I would lose the man I’d come to love because of my deceitful heart. The mother of all motherfucking karma’s was going to bite my ass—hard. I needed to lock these incessant nauseating thoughts where they belonged—behind a door that had no moral key and slam it shut.
Looking to the left, I saw the fire raging in the pastoral-styled fireplace. Above me, the erotic portrait of Abel loomed. In one hand he was holding a set of handcuffs, and in the other a red scarf—the exact red scarf I was now holding in my hand.
Perfect spot! Unbuttoning my pants and blouse, letting them both pool at my feet, I then took off my bra and panties. Flames licked my skin, helping to ease the goose bumps stepping out all over my body. Double-knotting the scarf, I lowered myself to my knees, thankful for the plush carpet. I sent a silent prayer of gratitude upwards—even though God had no place here today. Today, I would be rejoicing, reveling in and partaking of rituals practiced by heathens.
Tempering my breathing, I thought to myself: Namaste. But then the squeak of the door knob stopped all thought—all thinking—sending a shiver down my spine. His innate maleness seeped into my pores, cocooning my skin in his alpha scent—marking my heart as his. Instantly, my body recognized him. An unwilling groan escaped me as my nether regions clenched in anticipation. He just chuckled.
~~~
"Very good. I see you followed my directions flawlessly. I see that beautiful pussy’s shaved bare for me. This pleases me, Gia. And you will see how much very shortly. But, are you ready for your Master? If I part your folds, will you be slick and hot for me?" His warm breath tickled my ear.
My mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water, until I finally croaked out, "Um, yes. I, um. I believe so, Abel.” Christ, why was I reduced to a stuttering adolescent? He was fucking dangerous and hot, that was why! Steeling myself, I needed to woman the fuck up and show him who I really was.
Palming my chin he spoke gruffly. “Love, when we’re in this setting, I am your God, bringer of pleasure and pain.” He released me, clearly awaiting my praises.
“Yes, Sir. I understand perfectly,” I affirmed. My body chilled, knowing the moment he stepped away. The ring of the crystal decanter signaled loudly in the air. Rolling shudders had me clenching—hard. Moments ticked by at a snail’s pace, and I wanted to rip my hair out, my frustration building as he took his time, leaving me in this vulnerable position. He swallowed his drink. Padding back over in my direction, he brought that delicious signature scent of his my way. It smelled of musk and something wild I couldn’t put my finger on.
“I’m going to taste you now,” he declared. What? Christ on a motherfuckin’ cross! Two thick fingers teased my clit round and round, spreading my silky juices along my seam, preparing me for his invasion. I held my breath. What else could I do?
“You smell like you want to be fucked.” He smiled appreciatively. “Breathe, Gia. Your God would like to sample you. I want to commit your taste to memory. Savor you on my tongue. Swallow your goodness,” he rasped, leaning into my ear. I wanted to scream just do it already. His beard scruffed against my face as he lowered his mouth down to my ear. Every breath, every heartbeat, every swallow, was mine, here. I had a front row seat to an erotic movie I was starring in.
Holding my shoulders firmly with his left hand, he roughly entered my opening. One breath in, one long breath out. With precision, he inserted two fingers inside me, keeping his thumb on my trigger. I ground against his palm.
“You will not come—yet. Stay still or I’ll stop,” he affirmed. Well, that did it! I needed release and needed it now. Fuck. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I was thankful for the blind-fold. He had to see how challenging this was for me. With a final stretching thrust he vacated my pussy. Pussy juice permeated the air, releasing another gush of wetness. His sucking sound ended with a loud pop, followed by a growl of approval.
“Taste.” He fisted my hair, driving his fingers into my open mouth.
“Taste how sweet your pussy is?” he queried. I had the perfect opportunity to bring him to his knees. My tongue languidly snaked its way around his fingers, sucking greedily any remaining ambrosia—with my own kickass resounding pop. Umm… I purred my contentment.
A seismic roar rumbled its way free from his alpha chest. Oh, he was affected. Breaking dominant control momentarily, he lunged forward, fisting my hair, his tongue forcing my mouth open. Damn this Dom! My lungs fought for air. My hands braced against his muscled chest, alive with the vibrations from the beast tethered within—Abel. Dizziness threatened to take me under. Pulling air into my nose, I took a deep breath. Consuming me from the inside out, he didn’t let up. Apparently, my survival was to be damned. Now I needed to return his kiss. My hands found their way up his neck to his thick hair. Grabbing a fistful, I pulled. He answered my call with his masterful tongue and gnashing teeth. Needing his cock in my pussy now, I reached for it, feeling its thick steeliness through his jeans. He gently removed my hands. Disappointed, I lowered my head, taking the opportunity to nourish my blood with oxygen. He forced my hands behind my back. I sat on the back of my knees to steady myself.
“You have to earn that, babe. You haven’t earned my cock yet. And he has a bigger ego then I do.” He chuckled as he stood up, leaving me again. Was he serious? His dick had an ego?
Some shuffling of drawers opening and closing to my left had me turning my head in that direction. My legs tingled with anticipation and lack of activity. I hoped I wasn’t going to be on my knees too much longer. The snap of something caught my immediate attention. Licking my dry lips, swallowing the golf ball-sized knot, I readied myself. Sweet-smelling leather assailed my senses.
“Do you know what the Cat o' nine tails is, Gia?” he asked. I had done some googling before this night, so I wouldn’t be ignorant to basic BDSM—knots, whips and positions 101. I had schooled myself quickly.
“Yes, Sir. A traditionally favored whip with nine separate tails,” I qualified. Quirking a smile, I awaited his answer. He replied by running the tails along my breasts … down to my pussy … snapping my clit to attention. Over and over again my body became acquainted with this new form of torture. Legs shaking, I thrust myself to an upright position, hoping this little exercise would stop this embarrassing bodily display of minor earthquakes. No such luck. My body wanted to surrender to its Master. My breathing ratcheted to panic-attack levels. An explosion of epic proportions was near. Whack!—across my behind. Ow! Fuck me!
“Not nearly yet, sweetheart. That nice shade of red on your ass is making me hard as fuck, though,” he countered. Well, that’s not how I really meant it, but that’s exactly what I wanted—right the fuck now. He was turned on. And that turned me on. If his lash marks on my skin did it for him, I thought—then so be it.
“I want to taste you, Master. It’s only fair.” I was practically whining: throw me a fucking bone! This BDSM shit was killing me. I was not a patient person by nature. So I deserved a reward for the restraint I’d been practicing today. The sound of his zipper lowering caught my attention. The lava started to trickle down my legs again.
“Is this what you want, pretty girl?” He stepped up, smearing his pre-come on my lips. I moaned embarrassingly loud.
“Yes! More!” I demanded. He presented his cock to my tongue. It stroked his piercings. Fuck me.
Expertly I lavished it with my tongue, paying homage to this rock God. Maybe his cock deserved its own zip code? This was a locale I wanted to move to—like, now. Pushing forward I sought his engorged balls. Licking, flickering, and tonguing at break-neck speed to the best of my ability, I made him roar. He ripped the scarf off, freeing my eyes from their prison.
Although my sight was restored, I still couldn’t see clearly. Squinting, I looked up towards his beautiful face—and even through the blurriness, I could tell that it was twisted in agony. He needed release. His eyes sparking with warning, he looked as if his thread-like hold on reality was virtually nonexistent. A sardonic smile wrenched his lips as he continued stroking his cock. Up. Down. Up. Twist. Down. Release. Up. Twist. Down. Release. His left hand squeezed his tightened sack roughly, his eyes glistening. His tongue snaked out to wet his plump lips. His sooty-lashed eyes closed for a moment as he blew out a long breath, battling for control. I gulped—hard. Something sparkly caught my upturned eyes, bringing my gaze back to his sack.
“Like what you see, babe?” He smiled proudly. His tatted cock was a kaleidoscope of vivid colors. The body of the dragon was done in green with the underside in orange scales, the whole length of his cock ending with the dragon’s head on his dick-head. His Apadravya shone brightly against the dragon’s head, looking like it was coming out of its mouth. His Mons provided the backdrop for the wings. He was a work of art I intended to worship fully. I tilted my head awkwardly left, then right. The head of his dick was pierced, and all along the dragon’s scaled underside were generous loops.
“Ya like those frenum loops, babe? Ya like that one through the head, the Apadravya? You’ll be thanking me soon for it.” His toothy smile made me blush at my naiveté. He took my lip-licking as a signal for further instruction in How to Suck Abel’s Cock 101.
“Relax. Open real wide. Get it nice and wet,” he instructed.
Relaxing my gag reflex as per his orders, I readied my throat for his invasion. Not only did I have to worry about his girth, but I had to guard against his hardware as well. My mouth was desert-dry, so I pursed my lips to conjure up enough saliva to get the job done. The wide tip of his cock made its way past my lips, netting a groan from me of appreciation for this male, as I lavished the small beads of pre-come on my tongue, relishing his heady taste. God damn. His hooded eyes caught mine as I acquiesced. I closed my eyes and sucked his head hard with a quick swirl around his Apadravya. I spit into my palm, pumping his cock once. Twice. His throaty groan made my clit swell. I loved his male sounds. I knew I was doing this right. I wanted more. More of him. More of that noise. Widening my mouth even further, I took his cock in deeply, paying close attention to his frenum loops with my tongue. The jingling within my mouth had me shuddering. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Tongue. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Gag. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Gag. His fingers found their home, deeply embedding in my scalp, the pain making my eyes mist. Licking from base to tip, I was on repeat. His eyes bored into me, watching me intently, appreciatively.
So I gave him one final swirling suck, letting my lips pop loudly. Then I tried the impossible: to swallow him whole. Breathing through my nose, I watched. He watched. I swallowed. The thickness of his cock swelling was all the indication I needed. He was ready to blow—hard. My throat relaxed and opened to accommodate his girth further. Abel hissed and thrusted deeply. Once. Twice. Three times. He growled loudly, face-fucking me into oblivion. Surprising even myself, I swallowed his gift of spicy goodness, humming my appreciation to this deity. Swallowing it down and tongue-sucking his Apadravya, I inwardly smiled as I milked every last drop of elixir.
~~~
With a final groan I fell back and let the fibers of the rug absorb my fatigue. Mentally and physically, I was wiped out. I rubbed my fingers through the filaments, trying desperately to soothe my restless soul. At the moment, I didn’t care where he was or what he was doing. His gentle fingers caressed my cheek. I closed my eyes, savoring his touch.
“Oh babe, we’re not done. Come, I’ll carry you to my bedroom.” He bent down and scooped me up. Swaddled in his arms, I caught the look in his hooded eyes. A few long strides, and we were in his room. He gently laid me on his king-sized bed, then stepped back.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower. Care to join?” He motioned his hand to the bathroom in invitation.
“Nah, I’m good here for now. You go. If I change my mind, I’ll find you.” I smiled sleepily.
He nodded and left through the en-suite. Raising myself up on my forearms, I took in the room. Monochromatic black and white made up a majority of his palate choice, aside from his poppy-red silk shantung comforter. Everything was simple, yet elegant. It was clear that Abel sought the comfort of home and all of his familiar possessions. I guessed life on the road really was lonely.
Cocooning myself in the lush bedding, I concluded there was no better place to be. And no better thing than his scent. Lord above, if I could bottle his essence, I’d be a wealthy chick. Grabbing his pillow I brought it to my nose, inhaling his heady alpha smell. A groan escaped me, and my clit was beyond engorged: it needed release—again. I needed to steal this pillow.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his smile reaching his eyes. I cursed inwardly. Busted. He reached for my legs and pulled me across the bed. Holy shit. His eyes were alit with mischief. He pulled me until my bottom was at the end of the bed. I laid there naked and began to feel self-conscious. I turned to grab the edge of the comforter.
“Don’t hide your body from me, Gia. Spread your legs for me. I want to see what’s mine. I want to taste your nectar,” he commanded—and I obeyed, spreading my legs.
When he didn’t respond, I grew anxious. There was a mirror on the wall next to the bed and I could see my reflection in it. What a turn-on. Me watching him—us, as his eyes devoured my pussy. He removed his towel from his waist and turned to see me watching tentatively in the mirror. He grabbed hold of his thick cock, stroking and smiling, as he watched me for a good long-ass minute. This was all one big mind fuck—and I was barely holding my own. My blood boiled while I watched his erotic exhibition. Boy, was he ever a showman. He knelt down and seized both my thighs, pulling them back into a V across my chest. The image of us in the mirror was arousing. He pressed his nose along my pussy, inhaling deeply.
“You’ve got such a pretty pussy, Gia. I’m a man starved for this pussy. When I’m done, I’m going to fuck you like the devil. My cock will be everything you’ve wished for, babe.” He winked. Cocky motherfucker. Holding my legs in place, he dove face-first into my pussy, pushing his tongue deep inside me—growling, devouring me whole. The sounds of him sucking, licking, and nipping my pussy made my muscles lock up. I reached for his hair. I needed to touch him. I wanted to hold his head to my pussy until I was good and ready to let go.
“Gia, put your damn hands above your head or I will tie you to the bed,” he growled. I acquiesced. I would have fucking died or killed someone if he had stopped. Oh God, don’t stop.
“God has no place here, babe.” His voice was demonic. Had I just said that aloud? Never lifting his face from his meal, he pushed my knees almost flush against my chest, lathering his face in my juice. Oh, God. His growling, biting, and sucking were sounds I would never forget. He was feral. Possessed. Using two fingers, he starting finger-fucking me as he sucked my clit. My legs shaking with deep vibrations, I started to rock my hips. Twisting the comforter in my hands, I began screaming. But he wouldn’t let up. The rumbling from his chest I barely registered as I floated back down to earth. My eyes now opened to a savage beast, leaning over to bite my inner thing. I yelped in surprise. He stood tall and proud, stoking his long, thick, massive cock, his face still glistening with my come. Nothing registered to this alpha. He had one thing on his mind and that was sinking his gorgeous cock into my soaked pussy.
“You want this cock now, babe?” he asked through gritted teeth. Still stroking it, he spit in his hand. Fucking hell.
“Please, Abel. I want you now,” I begged. I needed him now.
“Need to hear you say it, babe. Tell me you want me to sink my cock deep in you.” His voice was barely audible.
The grit in his tone had me wanting to grab his dick and fuck myself with it. He was watching me closely, his control threadbare.
“Abel, fuck me with that big gorgeous cock of yours. Grind that piercing over my clit,” I hissed. That did it! He couldn’t wait another minute—neither could I. He teased the entrance with the head. Going agonizingly slow, he paid special attention to my clit with his Apadravya: back and forth, round and round. The pressure mounted. I couldn’t handle another second of the exquisite torture. I leaned forward and grabbed his cock—hard.
“Stop fucking with me, fucker, and fuck me already,” I pleaded. He answered by feeding me his cock—one motherfucking inch at the time.
“I have to loosen you up a bit. I can’t go balls-deep yet. Let me work myself in there. Love my girl greedy for my cock. Gets me harder than fucking stone.” He growled breathlessly. Leaning over me, his eyes hooded, he fed me his delicious, scorching cock. He leaned down over my face, arms positioned on either side of my head. His warm breath hummed in my ear, as his hand reached down to stroke my clit.
“Come on, babe. Open for me,” he rumbled. Thrusting a bit harder and quicker, I felt my body breaking apart for this mythical creature. My eyes closed tightly as I tried to wrap my legs around his waist to lock him in place.
“Not yet, babe. I haven’t worked in my rings yet. I’ll tell you when you need to hang on.” He nipped my ear. I sighed. Fuck, I had thought he was all the way in! Christ, I wasn’t built for this kind of torment. I reached down to his butt cheeks and clamped down with my hands, pulling him deeper inside me. He corkscrewed his ass over and over. I screamed in pleasure.
“That’s it, mama. Scream for me. You’ll be doing a lot more of that,” he exclaimed. Biting my lip to stay in the present and not float away, I took a mental screenshot of the moment. I felt so full, with my walls stretched to accommodate his girth. With each thrust he sank deeper. And I fell a little harder. Yeah, I was fucked. Literally. The sound of my blood pumping through my veins roared in my ears. I couldn’t tell if it was my breathing or his. It was a hodgepodge of ecstatic noises. He placed his hands over mine, pinning them above my head.
“Arch your back for me, babe, and spread those pretty legs nice and wide. I’m going to own this pussy right the fuck now,” he hissed. I did as he asked, completely submitting. After all, this was what he had asked for: total and utter submission.
“That’s it, babe. Offer me that sweet cunt,” he whispered. How did he make my least favorite word sound like a fucking sonnet? I felt so incredible—so alive, our bodies in tune with one another, rutting rhythmically in a crescendo of lust, his frenum rings hitting spots I’d never sensed before. He manipulated my body with expert precision. I regarded his handsome face, relishing this beautiful man on top of me. His eyes bore into me with stealth-precision. Looking directly into my soul, he smiled wickedly, then kissed me deeply. Arrogant prick. Yeah, he knew he was the best ride in town. Fuck me.
Grinding my heels into the mattress to get better leverage, I met him thrust for thrust. He moved his fingers from my clit. With his other hand still pinning my arms above my head, he pushed my right thigh up from under my knee. Just then he hit a whole new angle and I lost it. Screaming his name, I clenched my pussy, squeezing his cock. As he jack-hammered me, I felt his head swell further. He released my hands, rushing to his knees. After a few long strokes of his dick, his hot thick ropes of come painted my tits and stomach. Yeah, he was an artist, all right. His eyes were closed, his mouth parted. His breathing was hurried, his body still. He looked like a fucking God—absolutely stunning. I would never get this image out of my head.
He opened his eyes finally—to see his handiwork, watching me closely. I smiled in post-coital bliss. I was blissed the fuck out. He leaned over and on top of me, kissing me with his full lips, coaxing my mouth open with his talented, wicked tongue, not caring that his come was smeared all over his body. Most men would mind. But he wasn’t most men. I accepted his kisses with a moan.
He kissed me for a long while until sleep drew me under. I slept without dreams, with just the sensation floating behind my eyelids of colorful pastel swirls. If I had any conscious thought it felt much akin to Alice and the rabbit hole. My body was enveloped in his scent, marking me right down to the bone. I would forever be his—whether he knew it or not. His to control. His to do with as he wished. His to consume, to eat away at my very soul. I was in that deep. My veins ran with his essence, the fuel, the nourishment, my body craved. His melodic gritty voice carried me to the surface of consciousness. It was faint, but it spoke to my heart—awakening me.
I opened my eyes, seeking him out. He was singing an a cappella version of …? What song was that? I knew it wasn’t one of Lethal Abel’s. I listened keenly, searching for any frame of reference. Oh, now I knew! It was his version of Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse.” His had an edge to it. Nonetheless, it was beautiful. And more importantly, it was quintessential Abel. He mastered everything he did, on his terms.
Make me your cupid—
Make me your one and only
But don’t make me your enemy, your enemy, your enemy
So you wanna play with magic
Girl, you should know what you’re falling for
Baby, do you dare to do this?
‘Cause I’m coming at you like a dark horse
Are you ready for a perfect storm, a perfect storm?
‘Cause once you’re mine, there’s no going back …
Oh, God. His version of reality was quickly becoming mine. I laid back down and let his voice pull me back under again, swathing me in his gravelly tones—carrying me to him.
Midwestern native Heather Van Fleet lives in a small town on the Iowa/Illinois border. She’s a wife to her hubby--and high school sweet heart--Chris, as well as a mom to her three little girls, Kelsey, Emma and Bella. When she’s not obsessing over her fictional book characters, cooking dinner, or running around chasing her crazy kiddos, you can usually find her with her head stuck in her Kindle, sucking down White Chocolate Mochas like they're water.
Posts
