|The dungeon (erotica)Page 1 of 1 |
|It did not look to be a place of any significance. It simply resembled the entrance to somebody’s flat above a shop, but Calvin Lavelle knew of what lay behind the dark blue door, sandwiched between a bakery and a charity shop. There were no signs, no notices indicating that it was a massage parlour, nothing to indicate the type of place it was. |
He knew also that the place gave more than a simple massage. For those with extra funds, any whim was catered for. He knew as well, that the place had a basement, where more exquisite tastes could be indulged in. It was not the massage parlour, or brothel that Calvin was here to see. It was ‘The Dungeon’, where, as far as he knew, it was a place of bondage and sado-masochism. There were plenty of massage parlours giving out extras across the country. That was of no concern to him, as people knew but chose not to say anything, and it had been like that for many years. No-one was being harmed. It was all consensual activity among adults, and was something that went unspoken, because people’s prejudices were still active and strong. Many disapproved, but accepted that they were there. There were those that did not know, and would have disapproved, but doing nothing about it should they understand its existence.
Calvin wondered about this place. Maybe they simply think it’s a massage parlour that gives special treatment to those with more money, but did not know about the dungeon, a place were pain became pleasure.
He worked for an obscure magazine that not many people knew about or bought, yet still remained in business. ‘Dominator’ was a fetish quarterly, catering for all sorts of bizarre tastes, for people who got their sexual kicks from things that could be deemed ‘abnormal’. Still though, many individuals throughout the world showed an innocent façade to people who did not know about their sexual desires. Who knew that an innocent check-out girl at the local discount super-market enjoyed being blindfolded and having anal sex with complete strangers? Or a bank manager who could only get an erection when his penis was rubbing against metal? Calvin was one of those journalists who wrote complete exaggerations and downright lies when it came to his articles. At 38 years-old, voluntarily bald with a white goatee beard, and a beer induced paunch, he was the type who would go and visit strange sexual customs and photograph himself in various poses and guises, always grinning at the camera, sometimes with thumbs-up in a ‘look at me, aren’t I crazy?’ frame of mind. For this issue’s article, he had booked an appointment for the dungeon to see ‘Mistress Fox’.
He was not intending to have a session with her, but to sit in with her and a client, and watch and photograph them, maybe perhaps joining in where he would probably get the client to photograph him pretending to be whipped, his face in mock pain at the camera in his ‘I’m having a go’ attitude.
He checked the camera before leaving his Renault Laguna and crossing the road. People passed by as normal, and Calvin guessed that many of them perhaps did not know it was there. You could pass by it everyday and not notice the door.
With his Finepix digital camera around his neck, he stepped back and took a picture of the entrance. No-one batted an eyelid, and he pressed the intercom at the side, waiting for it to be answered. It was answered by the door clicking open. He entered, and it slowly swung shut behind him. He was faced with a corridor. The walls were blank, and a threadbare carpet led to the reception, where a dowdy looking woman with curly black hair was reading a newspaper at a desk, sipping from a bottle of blackcurrant juice. As he approached, he passed by a white door on his right, and written in black felt-tip at eye-level was: ‘The Dungeon’.
The woman looked up as he approached and smiled. He took out his identification and showed it to her.
“I’ve come for my interview with a Mistress Fox. I’m from Dominator magazine”.
“Oh right, yes. I heard you were coming” She picked up a telephone and pressed one digit. The room was fairly small. Along both walls either side of him were several chairs, a potted plant in one corner, and over both shoulders of the woman were two doors, one closed, one slightly ajar. He could just about hear a voice coming through, but could not make any words out.
“Jan,” said the woman, “Your journo’s here. Shall I send him down?” A few seconds later, she pointed to the white door.
“Just go through,” she said, and continued talking on the telephone.
Calvin walked across, entered, and found he was at the top of a set of curving concrete stairs. The walls here were black, with amateurish flames painted at the base leading all the way down. He reached the bottom and found an open set of double-doors leading into a carpeted corridor. He saw a woman talking into a telephone on the left wall. She was nodding.
“I know, yes”, she said, replacing the receiver. She turned and smiled at Calvin, then walked across. Calvin simply stared at her, already an erection beginning to push against the zip of his jeans. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, wore knee-length leather boots and black fish-net stockings with a red g-string. Her top simply consisted of a tight chainmail bra showing off her ample cleavage. On both her forearms she wore lace gauntlets. She had what looked to be a diamond naval stud, had a silver hoop ring in her bottom lip, and seemed to have over-done the eye-liner. Her hair was tied back in a pony-tail, and her caucasian complexion looked as though she had recently been on a sun-bed. She looked like the girl next door showing her true self.
Proffering her delicately manicured hand, Calvin shook it.
“You’re the reporter, right, come to do an article on the dungeon?” she said. Calvin nodded.
“Yes, I’d like to take a few pictures and interview some of the workers and customers if that’s ok?”
“That’s fine by me, and I’m sure by Madame Crush. She’s busy with a customer at the moment” She gestured to a closed door, but he could not hear any sounds from within.
“I’m not sure about the customers. My one o’clock is due in a minute. You can watch if you like, if he allows it. If not, there’s nothing I can do”. Calvin took out his note-pad and pen.
“Ok,” he said, “I’m sure Mistress Fox isn’t your first name. What is and how old are you?” The wall-phone buzzed, but the woman did not answer it.
“Ah, he’s here”. A man in a police constable’s uniform appeared at the doorway. Miss Fox smiled and walked across to him. The tall, dapper man, with his hat tucked under his arm, looked to be in his early forties. They talked for a few seconds, but Calvin couldn’t make out what they were saying. They then approached a white door which Calvin was standing near. He was about to speak to the man when he spoke first:
“No,” he said. “Like ****. There’s no way I’m answering your questions, and if you take a picture of me I’ll have your ****ing job, understand?” Calvin nodded. The man walked through the door. Miss Fox simply shrugged.
“I’ll see you later,” she said, “Look around, take your pictures, conduct interviews. I’ll see you in an hour”. She followed the man in and closed the door, and Calvin was left in relative silence, looking up and down the corridor. There were six doors altogether, each, he assumed would accommodate a client, but he doubted that they were ever all occupied at the same time.
The light-green painted walls featured many plaster wall casts of various body parts, all of a sexual nature. Pert breasts next to an erect penis. Over-sized lips with jutting tongue next to smooth life-size buttocks and thighs. He took a few pictures, and saw that a door towards the end of the corridor was ajar. He walked across. A felt-pen had been written on it: ‘Store room’. He pushing it open, he was faced with a small room, with three shelves on every wall.
With the camera ready, he walked in and gazed around at mouth gags, hoist bars, anal beads, chastity belts, vibrators, and all manner of equipment designed to give pain, designed to give arousal. He took and few pictures and left, seeing he had fifty minutes left before he could see Mistress Fox. He didn’t like to enter the other doors incase he was intruding, so instead decided to go back upstairs and interview those in the massage parlour. As he passed by the door where the policeman and Fox had entered he heard a loud smacking noise, followed by a cry of pain.
“You’re a naughty boy. What have I told you?”. There was another smack, and another cry of pain.
He had not got much from the employees. They had not known to expect him, and he almost felt quite intrusive as he took his pictures and notes, but he ended up in reception, sat on one of the chairs, watching the receptionist as she played pinball on the computer. He had asked her all he wanted to ask, and despite the occasional voice from beyond the doors, all he could hear was the clinking of the ball on the screen. He kept checking his watch. It was nearly time for the policeman’s hour to be up. Calvin hoped he hadn’t paid for more.
“So,” he said. “How do you make your money? you’re not exactly advertising yourself are you? There’s not a flashing sign outside that says: ‘Come on in for a massage and a shag’”. The woman gave him a
glance with an offended frown, but Calvin didn’t read it.
“Word of mouth,” she said, “Recommendations”. She looked back at her game as he jotted it down. He sighed and looked at his watch again. He decided to go and wait downstairs, and met the policeman on his way up. His face was flushed bright red, and tears streaked his cheeks. He pointed a finger at Calvin, accusingly.
“Remember what I told you,” he said, his voice sounding upset, “If this gets out, I’ll have you sacked, ok?”
“It’s alright. Fine. I won’t say anything”.
“Right”. He vanished through the door, and Calvin went down into the corridor where he saw Mistress Fox standing near the doorway, smiling at him. In her right hand, she held a chain whip.
“Come in”, she said, and Calvin entered.
The room was the size of two average-sized garages and was lit with a naked bulb in the middle of the ceiling. The canvas floor was similar to that used in martial arts clubs, and the around the walls were various fetish contraptions and paraphernalia.
“My two o’clocks due in five minutes,” she said. Calvin nodded towards the stairs with a puzzled expression, and Fox guessed he was asking about the policeman.
“Adult baby,” she said, “Loves to be made to cry, loves to be smacked, likes me to beat him with a truncheon, well, takes all sorts” she said, and shrugged.
“So do you enjoy it as well?” he asked.
“Absolutely. Beating men is a personal fetish of mine”. She smiled. “Fancy a freebie?” she asked, holding up the whip.
“Er no, can I take a few pic…?” A man walked in and stopped when he saw Calvin.
“Ah, my two o’clock” said Fox. The man was wearing a light grey suit, and was a few inches smaller than the mistress, and looked to be in his early sixties. He was a lithe figure, the suit rather ill-fitting, like a tramp going for a job interview. He had a white beard that reached around two inches below his jaw.
He stared at Calvin with trepidation. Fox answered his unasked questions.
“This is Mr Lavelle from Dominator magazine. He’s doing an article about us”.
“Er, yes” said Calvin, stepping forward to shake the man’s hand.
“I wonder if you would be kind enough to allow me to take a few pictures of your session”. The man hesitated for a while, contemplating, looking at the mistress for any advice.
“Alright, but on the condition you don’t show my face in the magazine”. Calvin nodded.
“Yes, OK, I just want to get a flavour of the type of things that go on here. Anyway, if I could take a few notes as well, that’d be great”. Calvin took out his note pad and pen.
“What’s your name?”
“I hope you’re not going to write it down for the magazine. Can you change it when it’s printed?”
“My real name’s Arthur, but you can call me, er…Mr X in the article, or whatever”.
“OK, and what do you work as?”
“I’m a doctor, so you can appreciate why I’d like to keep my anonymity. I can’t have my patients seeing the article. What would they think?”
“Are you getting ready,” said Fox, pointing to a small curtained changing room, one of two in the far wall. As Arthur walked away, she crossed to the middle of the room and sat on what resembled a padded exercise bench. Calvin sat next to her, his pad held before him, nothing written. He couldn’t help but stare at her tanned thighs. He tore his eyes away and smiled sheepishly at her.
“So” he said. “You must get all types of people in here”. She nodded, and he reasoned that even her bobbing pony-tail was sexy.
“We get them all,” she said. “Scientists. Judges. Gangsters, the lot”. He wrote it down, and stood up and turned away from her, more to hide his erection than anything else.
“I’ll just take a few snaps,” he said, checking his camera. He took one of a stainless steel table against the wall next to the changing rooms upon which were various tools a surgeon would use. They looked more like instruments of torture. Attached to the other wall were mounted shackles and chains. In one corner there were all kinds of rope heaped together.
He took a few pictures, then Arthur walked out wearing a light blue dressing gown. Fox stood up and approached a counter along the other wall, featuring all manner of equipment for all types of fetishes. She replaced the whip and picked up a studded paddle. She walked across to him and he took off the robe and threw it to the side. He stood there naked, except for a leather****ring and a watch. Calvin could see he was sporting an erection. Fox swung the paddle down to strike his ‘bell-end’. Arthur cried in pain, crouching down.
“You’ve been a bad ****er, haven’t you?” said Fox, as a statement, grabbing his hair and tugging his head back.
“Open your mouth**** she said. He did, and she spat in it.
“Swallow”. He did.
Still with her hand clasping what little hair he had, she forced him to the floor and began kicking him hard, in the stomach, thighs, back.
“What are you?” she shouted.
“Worthless” said Arthur, as she kicked him again. She then began beating him hard with the paddle. Calvin paced slowly around, taking a few pictures, but no notes. After one strike hit him hard in the face, she grabbed his hair again and dragged him towards the bench. Forcefully throwing him on it, she crossed to the counter and replaced the paddle. Calvin watched her as she fitted a strap-on harness with an eight-inch cream coloured rubber dildo. It was fairly realistic, and rigid.
“Get in position, you ****ing prick” she said to the man, picking up something that Calvin could not see properly, and placing it down the side of her boot. Arthur positioned himself face down on the bench, bending over one side. Fox walked across to him, carrying a small tub, and a towel. She placed the towel down beneath his feet, and began pouring liquid chocolate over the dildo. She massaged it in, then knelt down behind the man.
“D’you want this eh? Worthless?” Arthur nodded.
“Please,” he said, “Do it to me”. She then poured the chocolate into his ‘crack’, spreading his buttocks as she did. The chocolate covered his scrotum and ran down his thighs. She pressed the tip of the dildo into his anus about an inch. Arthur moaned in pleasure. Fox then withdrew it, teasing him.
“Is that what you want?” she shouted.
“Yes,” he replied, louder.
“Yes, what?” She leaned forward and smacked the back of his head.
“Yes, Mistress. Please, I want it in me”. She then forced it inside his ring-piece up to the hilt, and began rhythmically to pound away in him, flecks of chocolate flying in all directions.
“Is this what you want?” she screamed.
“Yes,” Arthur yelled, louder. She again smacked the back of his head.
“You want ****ing, do you? you worthless piece of shit, you ****ing **stard”. She smacked him again, continuing to thrust away. Calvin simply stared, still no new notes taken. He took one picture, but the erection in his trousers demanded attention, although he tried to ignore it.
Fox pounded away for a few minutes, Arthur’s face one of sheer bliss despite regular smacks. She then slowed down, and eased it out of him, then quickly leaned down, spread his buttocks with her hands and began licking his ring-piece. Chocolate oozed out onto her tongue and lips. After around a minute, she leaned even further down and licked the chocolate from his testicles. Standing up she walked around the side of him and pushed him off the bench.
“****ing prick” she said, as she did, taking off the strap-on and casting it aside, then walking into the middle of the room.
“Crawl to me worthless,” she said.
“Yes, mistress” said Arthur. Calvin thought it might be difficult for the man to do that, but it wasn’t. He came crawling over, and Fox pressed a boot against his rib-cage and shoved him down.
“Lie on your back, worthless” she said. Arthur did as he was told, and Calvin could see that a lot of his body had bruises and cuts, not all of them from this session. His feet were about three feet apart, and his arms spread to either side. Calvin guessed he’d been here before.
The mistress stepped over him, straddling his head.
“What a sad, pathetic, worthless piece of shit you are” she said, and looked almost saddened for him. Calvin walked around them, taking pictures, his erection still throbbing. Fox then squatted down, her g-string inches from his face.
“What do you want now,****head?”
“To eat, to taste”. Fox then reached into the side of her boot from where she had placed a knuckle-duster. Wrapping it around her right hand, she squatted even further, her camel-toe an inch from his face. He made no attempt to do anything about it. It seemed he knew what she was going to do. Arthur could see that her g-string was damp. She lifted it to around five inches away, began rubbing it with her other hand, then slid her fingers beneath the material, pulling it away to reveal her moist vaginal lips and ‘landing-strip’. Then without warning, with her knuckle-dustered hand, she arched around and punched him hard in the stomach. He yelled, his face slamming into her reddened cleft. She punched him again, and this time he stuck out his tongue, and Fox kept punching him, everytime his face pounding into her. When she drew blood, she continued, and after around two minutes, stopped and knelt down, still with her g-string pulled aside, she sat on Arthur’s face, grinding away.
“Lick me,” she said, “Lick my****, and Arthur did, his tongue probing as deep as it could, licking her clitoris, his lips sucking her labia, making her even more moist, saliva dribbling down his own cheeks.
“Lick me worthless”. She threw the knuckle-duster to the side, then reached back and gripped his hard penis and began to masturbate him. With a tight grip, she pumped his shaft hard and fast.
“You like that, worthless, eh? You gonna choke?” She ground away even harder into his face, still furiously masturbating him, her knuckles pounding hard his ball-sack. Arthur could hardly breathe.
“Tell me when you’re about to cum you ****ing worthless****, she said, letting him breathe. He then continued to lick her. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes tight.
“I’m cummin’” he said.
“No you’re not,” said Fox, and with one swift, expert move, she turned and quickly positioned herself next him, still gripping his penis, and with her other hand gripped his bulbous purple gland and squeezed, preventing him from ejaculating. His shaft felt like it was on fire, and Arthur screamed. Calvin was leaning against a wall, breathing heavily, his face tinged red.
After a few seconds, Fox slowly let go of his penis, and it fell limply to the side. Arthur, like Calvin, was red faced and breathing heavily.
“That’s what you get for being a worthless****” said Fox, slapping him hard in the face. She stood up and walked across to the counter where she retrieved what looked to Calvin like stationary clamps. He’d seen them in the ‘Dominator’ offices. Only these ones had serrated edges, like metallic sharks teeth.
Walking back across to Arthur, she stood between his legs and with the heel of one of her boots, stomped on his genitals. She did that twice before kneeling down, and gripping his testicles in one hand. She put down the clamps and inserted a finger into his still chocolate streaked anus. Arthur moaned. She inserted two fingers. With her other hand, she twisted his scrotum, then inserted four-fingers. His erection returned. Calvin was fumbling with the camera. He had still taken no new notes.
Taking out her fingers from his rectum, she stretched her hands forward for him to lick the chocolate, which he did.
“Lick it worthless” she said. When her hand was clean she picked up one of the two-inch bulldog clamps, and slid it halfway over one of his testicles. She let go, and the teeth dug into it like it was crushing an egg. Arthur yelled, but Calvin didn’t know whether it was with pleasure or pain. He thought about interfering, but decided against it.
Fox slid the other clamp onto the other testicle, the teeth straining against the delicate gland, drawing blood which ran down onto the canvas. Fox looked at that and frowned. ****, she thought, that won’t come out. With one delicate finger, she rubbed dripping blood into his ring-piece, her finger-nail scraping the skin, but not entering his rectum. She then knelt forward and took the side of his penis onto her lips. With her teeth she delicately bit a piece of skin and pulled. The skin strained, then snapped back, more blood than usual oozing out because she had damaged a blood vessel. Gripping the shaft she began to masturbate him again, but slowly, and not for long. Arthur moaned in pleasure. Fox leant down again and took another piece of delicate skin, this time from his ‘bell-end’. Her teeth pulled another piece until it tore, more blood spilling out. Arthur screamed, and Fox took the whole of his penis into her mouth and began sucking vigorously, blood spilling from her lips over his testicles. Again she rubbed the fluid into his anus, teasing him by not entering further.
This continued for around five minutes until Arthur yelled:
“I’m cummin’” and Fox withdrew her mouth and gripped his penis and masturbated him vigorously. His ejaculate didn’t spray everywhere, instead it oozed from his penis over Fox’s fingers and his testicles, mixing with the blood to drip to the floor. She leaned forward again and put her hand onto his mouth.
“Lick it all off worthless ****er,” she said. Arthur did as he was told. Fox then slowly removed the clamps and threw them aside.
She stood up and looked down at him, his eyes closed.
“Stand up,” she said, and Arthur slowly got to his feet. She punched him in the face.
“Faster,****. Arthur stood swaying, his eyes open and staring at the mistress with fear and expectation. She stepped back, then gave him a hard kick in the genitals which saw him on the floor in a foetus position. Turning and walking across to the counter, she returned with the studded paddle.
“You’re a naughty boy aren’t you? And naughty boys need to be punished”. With a scarlet face, he looked up at her, trying to smile.
She began to beat him, hard, all over. Calvin watched on the screen of his camera as she furiously smacked him, and he could also see that his face was not one of pain.
“On your knees worthless,” she said, and Arthur took a few seconds to do so, Fox pacing around, eager to continue beating him.
“Lean forward”. Again, Arthur obeyed and the mistress began to spank his buttocks. Calvin could see that Fox was using all her strength to hit him.
“Yes…” said Arthur, “Don’t stop, I’m a naughty boy, hurt me”, so Fox continued beating for around five minutes.
“You’re a ****ing naughty****” said Fox, stepping around to crack him on the back of the head. Arthur collapsed, breathing hard. Fox walked back to the counter to replace the paddle, also breathing heavily, her face reddened with exhaustion. She walked back across and stood beside him, her hands on her hips. She tapped his arm with her boot, nothing fetishist, but simply to get his attention.
“Come in number six, you’re time is up”.
“Is that an hour?” said Calvin, his face still reddened.
“Not quite,” said Fox, “but it’s what he requires”. Arthur moaned and slowly got to his feet, smiling at the mistress. He nodded his appreciation.
“Thanks,” he said, then turned and walked slowly to the changing room. Calvin watched him as he did. He realised he didn’t really know what to write for the article, knowing that he simply couldn’t fill it out with pictures, like a lot of glossy magazines.
“I could see you really love your work” said Calvin, his erection still straining at his zip. Fox saw it and smiled.
“Fifty quid an hour,” she said, “If you do a good article and generate more business I’ll knock some off. I’ll do anything you want. Anything”. Calvin simply stared at her, embarrassed at her spotting his bulge. He dry washed his face, then took out his note-pad and pen, and realised he had hardly written anything. He sighed.
“Have you been a naughty boy as well?” she asked, putting her hand on his cheek, making him step back and go even further red with embarrassment.
“Do you need punishing?”. Arthur came out of the dressing room, dressed in his suit, a beaming smile on his still reddened face.
“Thank-you mistress” he said. “I’ll go and make and appointment for my next session. Bye”.
“Okay,” she said, “Thanks”. Arthur left, and Calvin decided to follow him.
“Er, yes, see you. I’ll do a good article” he said, walking out of the door. Fox stood in the doorway and watched him disappear from view up the stairs.
“Frigid****” she whispered, closing the door behind her.
In the entrance corridor, Calvin saw Arthur talking to the woman at reception. He went across also. Arthur gave him a polite smile, and bid the woman farewell.
“I’m done here” said Calvin, “The article will be in the spring issue, I’ll send a copy”.
“Ok thanks,” said the woman. Calvin turned and headed for the exit. He soon found himself outside on the pavement. A slight breeze had blown up, and the pedestrians again paid him no attention. The door swung slowly shut behind him, and he crossed the road to his vehicle and sat behind the wheel, winding down the window.
He simply sat there, looking at his sparse notes. He still had no idea what he would write in the article.
Across the road, getting into a silver Bentley eight mk2, he saw Arthur, who was soon pulling away from the kerb. He watched as he U-turned and spotted Calvin. He slowed down and wound down his window.
“Isn’t she a diamond?” Arthur said. Calvin tried his best to smile, but there was no emotion in it. He nodded.
“Yes. I suppose she is. How often d’you see Mistress Fox?”
“Most days to be honest, she’s my daughter”. He then waved briefly, and drove away.