A Trip To The Dungeon (Part One)
WARNING! RATING HAS ENCLOSED THAT THERE IS NUDITY SEXUAL CONTENT ADULT LANGUAGE AND BEHAVIOR AND USES OF BDSM ****DISCLAIMER NOTE**** If you cannot fathom the sexual actions of someone, please kindly click back to return to your main home screen. Others how ever, may sit down and enjoy the literary writings that are to be written. Thank you. ***AUTHORS NOTE*** This is a true story. All characters names events places and actions exist and have already happened.
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Well ladies and gents. Here I am again. Its a bit late to be writing this but I've been going over this dream in my head. yeah. No replayed sub-conscious fantasy tonight, it was a full fledged dream. Although I turned off my phone, which in turn turns off my alarm, I still woke up pretty damned early. Around 4:57AM, 30 minutes earlier than I normally would. Why was I up earlier than ever you ask? Well one is because I was in dire need of changing my boxers, they were filled with my cream. Yes. It was uncomfortable but I am a pervert, I like to smear it on my tip, its really thick, so it feels like absolute heaven to me. Guys try it out sometime, you cannot go wrong. Trust me. Anyway. Whilst I rose from my sleeping position, walked kind of bucked to the bathroom, proceeding to peel the cum drenched undergarments from my body. Washing, carefully, gently, I went over every event, from that first bite to the last crack of the whip on my back. Oops. Did I give away the spoiler? No I don't think you caught on to that. Haha. You didn't? Good good. So let us journey through the subliminal message we call my dream. It was a rough night for me, trying to get some slumber. Then getting an IM at god know what time of the morning, responding then passing out right after. It started out like this. Rainy day. Cold damp piter pater of natures tears staining my jacket, wetting my hair. I saw her. I tilted my head. A quizzical look upon my already dampened features. That pristine skin. Raven black hair. Intricate unique form of make up. Hannah? My Hannah? What had she been doing out here on this dreadful day? Oh. I just answered my own question. I guess you can say that is something her and I have in common, our love for things morbid, the things other people cannot see beauty in. Walking up to her I extended a dry warm hand. To protect them from the rain, I had them stuffed in the pockets of my jeans, which were black.( Yes I know. "Only Goths And Emo's Wear Black All The Time" No. Black is a highly fashionable color and pairs with any color in our color spectrum. Dont like it? Shove it.) Well. The look of surprise on her face made me smile. I know. I have a bright smile, but you have never seen the eloquently handsome darkness of my more aroused and excited smile. Instead of taking my hand, she engaged me in a warm long hug. This melted my heart,warmed the chill in my bones. Hugging her back we started a casual conversation. Filled with laughter memories and all around good time between two good friends. But I had this tinkling feeling in the back of my head. That small voice, my greater unseen knowledge that only I can hear, spoke once more. You want her. She is your Goth Queen after all. I know you crave the untouched beauty of her body. I looked away from her smiling face,seeing it melt away. I knew she knew something was wrong. That's when it happened. I didn't mean to make it so clear so..audible. I let out a gasp,she brushed her fingers against my cheek, asking me what bothered my once smiling and happy mind. She only giggled. God I loved her giggles. So care-free. So innocent. Yet there was always something more in depth, darker. Something I wanted to explore. A quick inhale if breath, I raked a now cold hand through my damp hair, slicking it back as I tried to smile at her once more. I started to blush. From the cold? Or from the fact that I asked her if she wanted to see my Dungeon of Terror? To my surprise, she obliged, said she would love to. She held my hand. Just clasped hands. No fingers intertwined, thumbs stroking skin. I held onto her hand happily. It was warm. Unusually warm. Had her hands not been protected by this droll weather? She had only a thin light jacket to protect her from the cold winds, the fierce beating of the rain. Surprisingly, I wasn't too far from home. Just a few blocks up and a few feet to the right. Through the back is where we went. In neo ages, Dungeon, means basement. Once in inside, I took in the splendor of my own personal decorating to my basement. Lush blood red carpets, gentle Silvers and blacks, intricate patterns strewn across my wall paper. A dark purple sofa and couch, entertainment system for those nights of having friends over and watching some movies and paying video games. I let go of your hand, to let you explore the basement. Your eyes lit up with mischievous delight as you spilled unto a closet which I kept all my instruments of torture and play. I walked over to you, and out of pure bold action, I wrapped my arms around her, gently kissing the rim of her ear. I nodded slightly. Telling her that she can open it and peer inside. She might like what she sees. Mouth agape as she opened the concealed closet. Running your fingers over the leather metal and fuzzed items, I let out a soft breath into your ear. I felt it. She shivered. That made my adrenaline throb through my body. I dare not do it again. She giggled again, taking out a slender item. My crop. MY red leather crop, my second most prize possession. Holding it firmly in her hand, she tapped my nose, which in turn made me sound off with a soft inquisitive murr. I saw that grin, the beautiful naughty grin. She ordered me. Sternly. To remove my shirt, unbuckle the jean. I did as so, hesitantly because I did not know what to expect. I dropped my shirt to the floor, my jeans dangling open, a hint of arousal at the slightly pitched tent that was forming. This excited her. I saw it. She bit her lip, and looked me over. My mind was swimming. I felt the tent rise more,shivering slightly. She ran the tip of the crop down the middle of my chest, biting her lip again, a soft sound of approval leaving her delicate lips. Replacing the tip of the tool with her hand, she streaked her nails down my chest, drawing tiny droplets of blood, reaching the opened portion of my jeans. I leaned my head back, a soft moan reverberating from my lips. Panting softly, not knowing what was next. She almost made me lose it all. I would've been shamed to mess my Goth Queens hand...my Mistress. She grasped onto my growing erection, stroking it roughly, yet teasingly slow. Leaning up on hr toes, close to my ear, roughly grabbing my hair with her other hand, she licked my ear, whispering softly, saying that I will enjoy this night of madness, and will always come back to her to relive it time and time again. Then the true nightmare began. I woke up. I was angry. Frustrated. I wanted it to finish! Maybe a quick lap and bound around the house or a slight jog might make me sleepy once more. Sending me back into the realm in which she rules.