Continuation of the story I referenced about a week ago.
Upon entry to the room, I peer into the dimness, and suddenly a new scent assails my nostrils….fresh earth. “What in the world?” I think to myself as I step further inside…and just as I think that the confines of the room change; what was once stone walls and floor, and cathedral ceiling becomes a meadow…off in the distance I can see a brook, and a forest. Glancing behind me the steel banded door is still there, as if it were the door to a Star Trek holodeck, but standing there in the meadow, completely freestanding and unusual. It doesn’t move. Turning about again, I find a dirt path laid before me, curving through the meadow and leading to the forest beyond. Not to be undone, I follow it…coming to a babbling brook of the clearest water imaginable…and the path leads to a small stone bridge. Strangely enough I hear very little sound other than the brook before me…no insects, no animals, not even a creak in the woods before me. It’s all very eerie, but I don’t feel the least bit afraid…this after all is my domain…my dungeon.
Crossing the stone bridge, the dirt path resumes and the woods are closer. As I follow the path into the woods, I can see in the distance a clearing. In the clearing are a variety of wooden pieces of dungeon furniture. Made of polished maple, oak, poplar and even one of teak, they are adorned with straps of leather, coils of fresh hemp rope, and all look as they have been in place for thousands of years, but not one appears to be touched by a drop of rain. Worn, yet completely in good repair. Turning about I see a set of wooden cages, large enough to hold bipedal toys of flesh and sinew. In the furthest one is a familiar visage. Can it be? No, impossible…I lost her 14 years ago! Upon seeing me she immediately goes to her knees and bows her head. It is leathers`rose{L}, my slave…my love…the one who was collared first, and remains the one dearest to me.
I walk to the cage and my hand drops to my pocket. I hear a small jangle and as I slip my hand in I find keys where there were none before. Grasping them I pull forth two old fashioned skeleton keys, and in my heart of hearts I know that one will fit the lock of the cage before me. There’s nothing that will keep us apart now. Slipping the key into the lock, I turn it, the tumblers of the lock appear to be in good repair, and the lock snaps open, hanging on the hasp as it drops down. I open the door as I see my old leather leash appear off to my right, dangling from a hook..old, worn and still able to see the bright blue stitching that proclaims ‘Property of Leathers’, it was gifted to me over 20 years ago, and it still works just fine. Taking up the leash I open the door…the woman within rises to her feet, her head still bowed…I reach out and slide my hand under her chin…lifting it up, gazing into my rose’s eyes again…my heart skips a beat. Reaching out to her, I snap the leash onto her old collar…the one that was sent to me after she passed, the one that sits in a carved wooden box….along with a lock of her hair that I kept, to remind me always of the connection that we had…that we will always have…that will go on long past the time when both of us are done and gone. But that’s not for now, that’s for a life outside of this special Dungeon.
As the leash clicks on the collar, I can see the glint of mischief and desire in her eyes. It’s been a long time for her too, and she’s raring to go. Sliding my hand steadily up the leash almost to her collar, I grasp her arm above the elbow, assisting her to leave the cage…and walk with me…for the moment by my side but I can already sense she’s wanting to heel, I trained her and she remembers her place, remembers it well. I allow her to fall back a pace from me, giving her slack on the leash as we proceed to the polished teak cross. One of our favorites from the old play space; upon reaching it I take a step past, turn about as she joins me. Looking up into my eyes she says quietly “Master, may rose play?” I smile and nod… yes my pet, my slave..we’re going to play…it’s time to let my inner sadist out.
Knowing by now whatever I need will be provided I lift up her limbs one at a time, have her face the cross and bind them with the strong scented leather straps. Wrapping the leather about her wrists, securing them to the cross at the upper joists..then as I crouch down, past her oh so familiar bubble butt I can’t resist but to give it a quick peck…then a firm crack with the palm of my hand, causing her to jump and cry out…her raven hair cascading down her back as she arches so very nicely, wiggles and stretches out her toes, looking her over I remember every nook and cranny of her body, every nuance, every sound that she makes. Even though it’s been so long, it’s as if we haven’t been apart for a moment. Smiling I crouch and secure her ankles in a similar fashion, being sure that she’s secure, but also safe, she has the freedom of movement she requires, but in the same vein, won’t be going anywhere unless I wish her to. She’ll be flying soon enough, and riding the clouds of subspace.
Standing up once more I press myself into her…whispering into her ear the things she loves to hear, how I’m going to abuse and amuse myself with her, and she’s going to fly with me, we will soar, and she’ll be sore…but she’ll love every moment of it, even when it hurts…especially when it hurts. I can already see her body tensing, the muscles quivering under the surface of her skin. Stepping back and to the side I bring my hand down firmly on her left butt cheek with a loud crack! She doesn’t cry out. It’s a game…she’s going to test herself…and me a little as well. She was never a brat, but then again I never liked brats to begin with, a fact she understood from the first. I play heavy-handed, and she was a masochist of the first order. Remembering the game, my hand explodes on her skin…first one cheek, then the other, the skin starting to pink from the first, blows raining down with no precision whatsoever, but the beats continue with the ticking of the mental clock in my head. First left, then right…left..right…a steady staccato rhythm that begins to have her body moving, unbeknownst to herself she’s already anticipating, trying to guess where the hand is going next. Sometimes she’s right, oftentimes she’s wrong.
A random harder than usual stroke, right on her sit-spot and she grunts with the force of my hand as it impacts. I smile and grip her hair, yanking it back and press a kiss on her throat…growling into her skin as I can already smell her sweat. She leans back into me at the same time, like a good girl, grinding her cherry red ass cheeks against my leather chaps. Our natural hides meet but she gets the worst of it as her bottom is grinding against my large belt buckle. Cheeky slave, she moans out and begs for more….
😥