Dusty Dungeon

“I have a fantasy of being tied up and made love to.”

“Mmmm. I guess I am going to have to buy some ropes.”

“I have some ropes in the closet.”

And that was my introduction to sadism and bondage.

I can’t say that I am a big fan of that sort of play, though it was fun for me as long as the playing didn’t get too rough. But Boom-Boom (really!) had quite an appetite for it, and was always leading me more and more into brutal play.

I suspect that was what finally ended it for me. I saw an emerging darks side to me, and I wasn’t sure that at some point I would be able to control my cruelty. I really didn’t like that feeling.

But up until that night that I left big red welts across her body from striking her with a leather strap, I played the game. Boom-Boom was not boring, nor was she bashful.

She usually signaled her readiness to play by starting a fight that quickly moved to the physical, and I would have to restrain her to keep her from striking me. Handcuffs and small ropes called pigging strings were in an end table drawer, and the first order of play was to bind her while she weakly protested.

I was always looking for creative ways to “subdue” her, being that sexual activity was such a strong component of the play. It seemed that the longer and the rougher I played, the more appreciative and feminine she became afterwards.

The play started with mild half hitches around her wrists and ankles, spread eagling her to the bed. She could easily escape the half hitches if she wanted to, but of course, she never did. And I would tease, and lick, and kiss, and insert, until she would orgasm in huge noisy screeches.

One night she was shrieking in pleasure, and I was afraid the neighbors were going to call the police, and didn’t want to explain a tied up and naked lady to a cop. Hence, I took a pair of long socks out of her drawer, stuffed one into her mouth, and tied a gag with the other one to keep her from spitting the sock out. She burbled on in ecstatic but muffled tones as I used the hand vibrator on her.

The play continued to get rougher and rougher as that summer wore on. She had a large, unfinished basement in her house that became “The Dungeon”. The Maytag washer and dryer kind of destroyed the ambiance, but we made do in our modern day dungeon.

By then, one of my games was to tie her up in what we called a hog tie, where the wrists and ankles were bound together, then go off awhile, leaving her in that position in the basement. Sometimes I left her that way several hours while I went down to the bar for a few.

The booze loosened me up a little, and when I got back I would tie her to the ceiling or to a column and start spanking her. The spankings later became slapping the breasts, butt and genitals. At first, I thought I had gone over the top with her, but by then I could read her pretty well, and knew that as long as the whippings were accompanied with sex, her “needs” were being met.

Unfortunately for me, the violent play began seeping out of the sexual play arena, and the more sever I became with her, the more she seemed to like it. I found that violence came a little too natural with me, although I really didn’t much like it. I do not like violent or abusive men, and when I am around them, I become just as violent as they are. Maybe even moreso.

I knew I was getting rougher and rougher with her, and she was still responding enthusiastically to it, albeit with a little more role playing about her going to be a good girl now. And she would be for a day or two, almost to the point of cloying sweetness and submission. And I began losing personal respect for her, which made me feel a little trapped and I began looking around for a new woman.

It finally broke the night I was swinging a leather strap on her, and leaving red welts on her breasts and stomach. I suddenly stopped. I just could not continue. I unhooked her from the lag ring in the ceiling beam, undid the ropes and gag, and walked up the steps leading to the kitchen to open a beer. She padded up the stairs behind me, and wrapped herself around my legs, simpering how good she would be now. I think she suspected that she was losing me, and she was really pouring on the meekness.

I knew I had to split. This just wasn’t my cup of tea. I didn’t want my friends to know how I spent my nights, so I had been avoiding them. My spiritual life had come to a standstill.

I didn’t leave Boom-Boom that night, but I did tell her that I was never going to play those games again. It took a few weeks before Boom-Boom found another lover, one from my Bible Study of all places. Funny, I had always suspected that guy. Takes one to know one, I guess. Anyway, I was free.

Since then, the women in my life have all been frightened of that sort of play, preferring the more direct approach. Sex is quite a bit less spectacular, but I have always desired a partner over a sex slave. I like it when respect rules in my house. Still, my mind goes back to those nights from time to time, reminding me that the veneer of civilization is very thin.

I am not as nice as most of you think.

~r