In the Dungeon

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As stupid as it sounds, I had memorized the telephone number scrawled on the stall wall in the bathroom at K-Mart. Now, I was dropping a quarter into the pay phone and dialing the number.


I hesitated.

“I found this number at K-Mart,” I finally stammered.

“Ohhhh,” came his response, “so you’re looking for some head?”

I hesitated a moment.


“Yeah,” God my throat was feeling so dry. The nerves were raging. My brain kept warning me, “what the fuck are you thinking?”

He gave me an address and instructions. It wasn’t too far, just south of the beltway, in a large town home community. His place was at the back of the neighborhood. Still very new, and very nervous, I parked two blocks away and walked down to his place.

I rang the door bell. The door opened, he pushed open the storm door and said, “come on in.”

He turned and immediately headed down a nearby stairway. I followed. He opened a door and walked into a bedroom with a king-sized four poster bed.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable,” he instructed.

I pushed off my shoes and undressed. I didn’t remove my black bikini briefs. From my few experiences, I knew that guys like the whole process of unveiling a cock that they were going to suck.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

“You’d be more comfortable if you laid down,” he proposed.

I turned and stretched out on the bed, my head resting on a fairly comfortable, soft pillow. He was still dressed and showed no sign of planning to undress. That isn’t so unusual for guys that give head, but there is that subtle difference in relationships when one person is fully clothed and the other isn’t.

He got on the bed, kneeling between my knees.

He ran his hands over my bikinis and got the response he was looking for.

“Hello there!” he exclaimed.

“Does this feel good,” he asked as his hands teased my small mount. Occasionally, his fingertips teased along the seams of the briefs, first circling my waist, then following the seam inward and under my balls.

I moaned my affirmative.

“Good, good,” he replied.

“I’m awful small,” I apologized, “sorry about that.”

“Nah, man,” he retorted, “you’re very thick, and you look like you would make a good mouthful.”

He leaned forward and, at the same time, he began sliding his fingertips inside the waistband of my bikinis.

I gasped with pleasure.

Then he pulled the waistband down and out sprung my boner.


He re positioned himself so that he was laying on his stomach and could comfortable suck my cock. He began right in, licking and sucking my boner.

And he did something else.

He rubbed his hand up my belly and across my chest. He found my left nipple. His fingertips were electricity to the nipple as they played across it. And then it happened.

He pinched my nipple, and elicited a deep throated moan from me.

“You like that, baby,” he growled.

I mewed my response.

He tweaked my nipple harder and I moaned louder.

He stopped sucking, and looking me in the eye, “are you game to try something more?”

“Well, I might be,” I answered, “what do you have in mind?”

He stood up. He walked to the wall on the opposite side of the room from the bed.

For the first time, I noticed that there was a large sheet hanging on the wall, held in place by thumbtacks. He grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it off the wall, revealing an extensive collection of toys, whips, collars, dildos, and other devices. My cock throbbed.

“I thought so,” he stated flatly. “You married guys are so predictable. Are you willing to submit? I promise not to leave any Etiler Escort marks or to hurt you in anyway that you don’t like.”

My throat was feeling so dry again. I’d seen this scene played out so many times in videos and porn stories.

“Yes, Sir,” I intoned.

“Yes, Sir, what?”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll submit. Use me however you want!”

He walked back over to the bed. He knelt on the side of the bed. He was reaching for something. That something was cuffs, not fur lined cuffs and not toys. He kept cuffs attached to the bedposts. Hand cuffs and leg cuffs. I didn’t resist as he stretched me out like an iron eagle.

He went back to the wall and grabbed a small chain, heavier than a necklace. At each end of the chain were rubber coated alligator clamps. He attached a clamp to each of my nipples. Next came a ball gag, which he put in my mouth and around my head. After that, he took down a flogger made with suede leather and a riding crop, along with a blindfold. He also grabbed a serrated pattern tracing wheel, which looked exactly like the tool my mom used when she was cutting out patterns while making skirts for my sisters.

He laid the tools on the bed, then picked up the blindfold and sat on the side of the bed to slip the blindfold on me.

“How much time do you have, boy?” he barked.

“An hour,” my voice trembled, “Sir.”

“Good boy,” he intoned. “We are going to help you find your limits and part of that exercise is learning to trust.”

The blindfold slipped over my eyes. I got so rigid from the helplessness and his authority.

“First things, first, boy,” he spoke in a measured tone, “I need you to be sensitized to EVERYTHING, so I’m going to use the tracing wheel.”

He shifted on the bed and then I felt the points of the wheel at the base of my cock. He slowly rolled the wheel up my boner, stopping just at the glans. Then he rolled it back down. He repeated this over and over. Up the penis and down again.

While he worked, he kept up a running monologue.

“You see, it’s not just about pain, it’s about sensations,” he explained, he now began rolling the tool around the tip of my cock and pre-cum was flowing from his attention.

He shifted again. This time, he began using the tracing wheel around my areolas, and, at the same time, he tugged on the chain connecting the alligator clamps on my nipples. His right knee was pressing uncomfortably up between my thighs, and the more he worked my nipples, the more I could feel him squishing my ball sack with his knee.

“Okay,” he announced, “let’s see how you handle the flog.”

He got off the bed. Now I was really blind, because with him off the bed, I couldn’t sense his next move.


He struck my cock with the sueded leather flog. Not very hard, but enough to elicit a gasp of surprise from me.

“You see boy,” he was in a teaching mood, “even though I just hit you, your pathetic little dicklet is raging hard. You were born to be used!”

He struck again.

And again and again.

He stopped, gripped my penis with one hand and pulled it toward my stomach. The effect lifted my ball sack, and he immediately struck it with the riding crop. My stomach felt sick. I’ve had my balls racked a few times, particularly when I was sparring during karate class.

I pulled against the handcuffs and the ankle cuffs, trying to move away from him, and trying to shield my balls. The effort failed, and angered him.


He struck my balls again and again, hard enough to make me feel sick to my stomach, but it didn’t affect my hard on, I could feel the pre-cum leaking down into my crotch.

“You have to use your will, Escort Etiler boy,” he spoke like a tutor to a pupil, “you have to coerce your body not to resist me. I am here to teach you pleasures you can’t imagine.”

After he spoke, he filled his mouth with my cock, licking and sucking and making me moan.

His weight shifted again. He stood up from the bed. I could hear his feet padding over to the wall of sexual devices. He said nothing.

He was mumbling something, but I couldn’t understand him. Then he walked over to the side of the bed. I could hear the drawer of the bedside table open. That sound was followed by his weight settling on the bed again, near my knees. I hear a small SNAP and then the sound of something being squeezed out of a container. Toothpaste?

“I don’t fuck my boys, but I do teach them to open their boypussies up for big cock.” He asked, “have you ever been fucked?”

“No,” I replied.

“Ever put something in your ass? A toy? A carrot?” He continued the interrogation.

“I’ve used a carrot,” I admitted, feeling the blush of embarrassment rise on my face.

“Well, what I’ve got here is a good bit bigger than a carrot, boy. You are going to want to sniff some poppers for this part of the fun!”

I had heard of poppers, read about their use in gay porn stories, even seen them used in some videos. I’d never tried them, though. I had no idea what I was about to experience. Fact is, at this point in my life, I’d never been drunk and I’d never smoked weed or used other drugs. But I also knew that bottoms always said that poppers made it easier to take a dick.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Sir, but I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”

“Good boy,” he responded. “These will really make you woozy, but the rush is incredible. I’ll hold the bottle up to one of your nostrils and hold the other one closed. I want you to take a long, slow breath through the nostril. Pull as long as you can or until I tell you to stop.”

“Yes, Sir,” I submissively replied.

I could smell something like a really strong nail polish. Next, I felt the cold rim of a small bottle against my nostril.

“Okay, boy, start breathing in!”

I complied.

Oh my god! I was seeing stars, my head was swimming.

“Stop!’ he commanded.

I did.

But then he moved the bottle to my other nostril. I thought we were done, but obviously he had other ideas.

“Now, again!”

I drew a long slow breath. I don’t know how long because I was losing my sense of my surroundings.

He let me draw until I couldn’t pull anymore.

His weight shifted. I felt cold moisture on my perineum. Whatever toy he had in mind to use on my pussy, he was rubbing it over and over on my perineum. The poppers and the teasing were making me crazy. I shifted, the effort made to try and impale myself on the toy.

“Hungry, aren’t you boy? You faggot! It never fails, you married queens always end up wanting to get raped!”

He shifted.

I felt the bottle against my nose. I didn’t have to be commanded. I began a long, strong pull on the bottle, and when he took the bottle away, I turned my head to offer the other nostril.

“Good boy!”

As he spoke, it happened. He pushed the toy up to my pussy lips. His pressure continued, firm and insistent.

“You know what to do, pussy. Push out so you’ll open up for Daddy!”

I obeyed and felt the searing pleasure of his toy entering me. I wanted this without even knowing how badly.

He held the toy in place and let me get adjusted to the sensations.

“One more set of hits, boy, and we’ll be able to get this thing all the way in,” he explained.

I couldn’t see Etiler Escort Bayan the toy, so I had no idea whether we were close, or how big the toy is, or anything. Fear and curiosity had me in their grip. I took long deep inhalations when he brought the bottle to my nostrils. I think I may have passed out. The next thing I could feel was the in-out-in-out motion of whatever baseball bat with which he was raping my pussy.

OH GOD! It hurt so good and I was flying so high.

Then, it happened.

He leaned over and begin sucking me furiously.

I exploded in his mouth. He didn’t care. He continued to suck and suck long after I was writhing on the bed from the intensity. He paused for a moment. “I’m not going to stop until you are still. You have to take control of your body!”

He returned to the task of teaching me to ignore the demands of my body so that I could focus on his desire.

At last, he broke his suction like grip of my clit.

“Damn, boy,” you sure liked having your pussy pounded. “Do you realize I fucked you with that toy for over 30 minutes?”


I panicked. I needed to get back home. The last thing I needed was to raise suspicions by an extended and unexplained absence. Well, the second last thing. I’d hate to have to explain why my ass hole was gaping wide open.

At this point, he loosened the ball gag, and removed the blindfold.

“Shit, man that was incredible! But I’ve got to get home before she gets suspicious!” I was imploring him to undo the cuffs.

“Well, boy,” he answered, “I certainly understand. But I never release a sub until he does something for me. It’s not a big thing, but you have to do it.”

“Tell me,” I replied, “I’ll do anything.”

He didn’t speak. He lifted the chain that was connecting the two nipple clamps and placed it between my teeth.

My quizzical look brought his explanation.

“You have to remove the nipple clamps by pulling on the chain!”

Fuck! He knew exactly what would be the most sensitive part of a guy’s body after orgasm, and he intended to make the most of the moment.

I closed my teeth on the chain, trying not to bite down but hard enough to keep a grasp on the chain as I moved my head backward from my chest.

God, it was intense! I pulled and pulled, and then first one clamp and then the other gave way.

No one warned me that having been clamped for so long would cause the nipples to be so sensitive or swollen! Jesus!

As the clamps released, he began to unlock the cuffs. It was then that I noticed that he had set up a video camera, apparently at some point after blindfolding me. He saw me looking.

“Yes, boy,” he explained, “this session was about your pleasure, but the videotape? That is about my pleasure. I’ll jack off to this video a bunch of times, and maybe share it with some friends that like my work.”

I felt sick to my stomach over that idea. Who knew to whom he might show that video. But there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I needed to get dressed and make sure that nothing I did now agitated him.

“Sir, I wanted to tell you thank you for taking the time to teach me so many things today!” I hoped I sounded sincere.

“Look, faggot,” he snarled, “you and I both know you’re scared shitless about having been videotaped. No sense trying to pretend otherwise. Who knows when that video might end up outside this house!”

His words were as bad as any punch in the gut I ever experienced. I started burbling, tears and fears pouring out of my face!

“You should have thought about consequences before you dialed my number, now you can just spend some time wondering whether someone you know might get to see you in an entirely different light. Now,” his voice got louder, “get your faggot ass out of my house, I don’t ever want to see you again.”

My shirt wasn’t buttoned. My belt wasn’t clasped. But I ran up the stairs and out of the front door.

I never saw him again.

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