Writing Exercise 10: In the Dungeon

[susurrus]

He traced a finger lightly down her face, her throat, over the swell of a lush breast. He smiled at her shiver and the apprehension she showed of what was to come.

"You've been a very good girl," he praised, "I hope you'll enjoy what comes next..."

Checking the cuffs at her wrists and ankles and the chains connected to them, he turned the crank, the ratcheting filling the room.

Slowly, her hands rose and spread, her feet separated...

 

[HordHolm]

"Hi, my name's Bob!"

Mary was a little relieved - so often in clubs the problem was that single guys simply stood around leering, cock in hand, expecting something for nothing.

"I'm Dale," said her husband, "and this is my wife Mary."

"Have you been to this club before?" said Bob, and Mary idly took him in. The motorbike boots and leather posing pouch combo shouldn't have worked, but Bob was buff enough to carry it off without being over-muscled. Plus there was his confidence. Mary decided that she wouldn't object if Dale decided they could play.

"Not this one, but we've been to other clubs like this," said Dale.

"Any I might know?"

"We liked Club Libertine over in Sarasota, didn't we darling?" said Mary, and as Bob looked her over she was glad she'd gone for the classic bra, panties, suspender belt and stockings look, all in black - she sensed he was a classic kind of guy.

"Oh, yeah! Great place, good ambience, really well-equipped bondage room. Not quite as good as this, but a lot of fancy gear."

They smiled at each other, and for an instant there was the sense that the conversation might lag. Bob, bless him, took control once more.

"Well, we know why we're here. Mary, if you'd go with my beautiful assistant, I've got some questions for Dale here."

A tall woman approached Mary, and whilst Bob was all easy charm this woman reeked of suppressed erotic tension. She was firm without being rough as she took Mary to the pillory in the corner of the room, and Mary knew she could submit to her just as much as Bob. Particularly as the woman hauled down her panties the moment after fixing her in place in the pillory, and a lush shiver ran through her.

Mary looked across at Bob, and where he'd got the riding crop from she didn't know. He shared a light joke with Dale, then nodded. It was time.

"Well, everyone, you all know why we're here," he said, at which the half-dozen other patrons in the basement room pricked up their ears.

"It's time for us to play," and here they chorused with Bob, "Whip...Of...Fortune!"

 

[madelinemasoch]

I managed this, finally. In exactly 349 words.

A damp darkness engulfed my quiet room. No parents. No friends. I had pushed them all away.
Red curtains blocked my gaze from the outside, draped over the windows so my room felt almost like a theatre, a theatre of cruelty, a theatre of joy. I lingered kneeling naked in the center of it all, save for the small metal cage that constricted my cock rather comfortably, and the black leather leash and collar She had placed upon my skinny neck. The walls were black, a dungeon, and between them sat a small desk and chair, two dog bowls to eat and drink out of, and a large cage furnished with a soft and fluffy pink blanket to sleep in, much warmer than sleeping in the mud out back.
Why did She permit such luxury for a creature as low as me? “Disgusting pervert,” she had said, an ice spike in my heart. My cage twitched upon its lasting. She was right.
She was also beautiful, with hair dyed black and lips painted red, more beautiful even than many of her visitors. I had watched them come and go, countless women, men, and everything otherwise. I had served them all faithfully regardless of how attractive I personally found them, for I had served Her first and foremost. The sting of watching them fuck her like I never could was sweeter than even that of the cruel words they said to me.
It all touched the hot core of my selfhood, so deep beneath the confines of my meager flesh. I was meant to be here. It was the only place in the whole wide world I belonged in. She had invited me in, and for that, I could never fully encapsulate my gratitude enough to express it. I cared about her more than anyone could ever care about someone like me.
The doorknob before me turned, and She stepped in. Each step held her inimitable glory. I quivered with the anticipation of intimidation, already on my knees for her. She pulled out her cock and told me to, “Suck.”

 

[StillStunned]

I managed this, finally. In exactly 349 words.

Better late than never, and worth waiting for besides!

 

[madelinemasoch]

Better late than never, and worth waiting for besides!

I appreciate that!

 

[SimonDoom]

"Please don't throw me in the dungeon!" I cried.

They threw me in the dungeon, and they locked the door behind me with a loud "clang." It was dark and dim. The stone walls were gray. It was the kind of place to turn any sane man crazy.

Fortunately, I was not sane. I broke out into a big smile.

I was in heaven. It was a grim terrible place, and I loved it. I knew I would be at home here, for however long they kept me.

After a few days of delicious, soul-pleasing isolation, I decided to spice things up a bit.

I started shouting and crying about a toothache, calling for someone to remove it.

After another day, they couldn't take the noise I was making. A "dentist" -- maybe he was, maybe he wasn't--showed up in a white smock carrying a bag full of pointy metal instruments.

"I don't have anesthesia to give you," he said.

I closed my eyes. No words had ever sounded so sweet.

 

[StillStunned]

Just when I think this place can't get any more disturbing...

 

[SimonDoom]

Just when I think this place can't get any more disturbing...

You've created your own little shop of horrors.

 

[Rob_Royale]

You've created your own little shop of horrors.

Lol. That's immediately what I thought of.

 

[ShelbyDawn57]

Lol. That's immediately what I thought of.

Odd, I went here...

 

[Erozetta]

I sat inside my head. A girl watching through a window, not living her life, but careening through it, twisting and turning at the whim and mercy of the people she loved. She was me, but not me.

She looked like me. Moved like me. Even smiled the way I did. But she didn't feel like me. None of them did. From behind the glass I could assess each one. See the "not me" that separated them from me.

On the far right, the golden haired girl with big bouncy curls, eyes wide with awe looking up at Daddy with pure adoration? That was a mask. It's who he expected me to be. His perfect daughter, sweet, pretty and - above all - absolutely adoring of him. I knew the truth. The twist to my father's eyes as he searched for my mother. He loved me and loathed her. And she loathed me for it.

Every abuse she suffered at his hand eventually found its way back to me in a twisted form. He accused her of cheating? It was my fault for existing and making it impossible for her to leave him. He never laid a hand on me, but by hurting her then claiming he loved her, he led me to believe love was pain and pain was love.

Daddy taught me what to expect in a partner.

He was good to me, but he also created the dungeon my partners found me in. He left me craving a love I was never shown before. The same love he had for my mother. And oh how men loved to love me within those powerful walls.

My obedience was unparalleled, my devotion unwavering.

There's a story for each partner. Each mask they wore held some truth to it, and as I glanced across the room, protected by the glass that let them watch the version of me they molded to their pleasure dance with glee and a soft little laugh, I realized my dungeon never withered; it only ever grew.

 

[StillStunned]

@Erozetta: Wow!

 

[Erozetta]

@Erozetta: Wow!

Bath time writing.

 

[StillStunned]

Bath time writing.

I tried that, but the paper got soggy and my fountain pen ran.

 

[Erozetta]

I tried that, but the paper got soggy and my fountain pen ran.

My phone isn't fond of it either, but I quite enjoy it anyway. Besides, it usually only takes like 10-15 minutes.

 

[StillStunned]

My phone isn't fond of it either, but I quite enjoy it anyway. Besides, it usually only takes like 10-15 minutes.

I laughed when Kobo released their waterproof ereader. They said that people kept dropping them in the bath, so they made one that would survive.

I've since dropped mine in the bath three times.

 

[Erozetta]

I laughed when Kobo released their waterproof ereader. They said that people kept dropping them in the bath, so they made one that would survive.

I've since dropped mine in the bath three times.

I used to bring my laptop in the bath with me. Almost dropped it in once and decided I'm far too clumsy for that. So, now I bring my phone. It has a waterproof case. I've only almost dropped it in once so far.

 

[riverboy]

I leaked a bit past 350 words, but you did say 'about 350,' so maybe this is close enough to within the guidelines.

—

“Apparently it was a mechanical room of some sort, brightly lit, with locked electrical panels, an old rusty water tank plumbed with cast iron pipes, a large boiler in the center of the floor, fired with natural gas, never stopping it’s hell-fired roar. The walls, the floor, even the ceiling was concrete, everything gray and dusty, everything so warm and so dry, a penetrating, life-sucking heat I’ll never forget.”

“You and John were in there together the whole time?”

“Yes. It helped that we’d always liked each other. He and his wife, and my husband and me, the four of us used to have dinner, see movies. Still, though, being locked in there with him, alone, for…so many months…”

“You mentioned before that you were being watched.”

“Yes. There were some small openings in the ceiling. The man was up there. Often watching.”

“When did that stop bothering you?”

“What makes you think it didn’t?”

“You’re smirking, for one thing. At our last session you mentioned the exhibitionism. The way it escalated. I think we need to delve further into that, don’t you?”

“The way it kept me sane, do you mean? Maybe going crazy made us both feel like we were still alive. But honestly, I don’t think anyone could have kept their clothes on in that heat. Not for all those weeks and months. John was first, his shirt off. It was like an oven, truly. I never used to think I perspired much, but…I couldn’t sleep in sweat-soaked clothes, so…”

“You both slept on the bed, right from the start?”

“He offered to sleep on the floor, but, I mean, hot concrete? I didn’t have the heart to make him do that.”

“So, you in your bra and panties at first, and him in his undershorts? When did you first take off your bra?”

“Is this necessary? Going over this in such…detail?”

“That’s up to you, Sarah.”

“I think it was…after a week of sharing the bed. I was dizzy from the heat. Dizzy from not knowing if it was day or night. It was the oddest confusion. I remember thinking ‘Well, we’re just going to die in here.’ I remember thinking…I didn’t want to die without loving a man again. I remember the look in John’s eyes when I reached behind myself and took off my bra. For some beautiful seconds, maybe even a full minute or more, it was as if life was real again, the concrete walls and the locked door and the watching man all went away. I wanted…no, I needed, more of that feeling, so I took off my panties, and I told John it was alright with me if he wanted to take off his sweaty underpants. He did take them off.”

“Was he aroused?”

“Yes, but…so was I.”

“Did you think about your husband, or John’s wife?”

“No. Not till after.”

“After…?

“After I fucked him. I fucked him, then he fucked me. So much fucking. There was nothing else. Oral sex and fucking. Do I get to admit that it was the best sex I’ve ever had? We started getting extra water, extra food. For months all we did was eat, drink water and have sex. I learned to deep-throat him. We even went anal, which still surprises me. His cock in my ass, me giving him rim-jobs. Our bodies were filthy dirty from all the sweating and the dirty dust, so, yeah, dirty bodies, dirty minds, maybe. The sex, though, I mean, all of it was, frankly, amazing. Going crazy kept us sane.”

“When did you find out the man made hundreds of videos and posted them to a porn website?”

“Oh my God. That’s a whole ‘nother story.”