I’d walked in the room and discovered Oliver’s dirty little secret – he had a sex dungeon!
It’s not every day you discover someone has a sex dungeon.
That was the last time I saw Oliver – he gave me a little introduction to the BDSM lifestyle. He was in fact a bit of a shit. He got me so worked up, enticing me with the prospect of a good seeing to – then he left me hanging. Not literally… I mean he left me wanting to be fucked.
I love the thrill of a good build up as it makes the release all the more sweet. Being the flirty, teasing bitch I am, it’s normally me that does all the flirting and teasing. Oliver however played me at my own game, and the bugger didn’t even know that it was my game.
If you’ve read my most recent post about Pete, you might have gathered that since I last saw Oliver I’ve been doing some research into Dom/Sub roles.
I’m due back at Oliver’s today and I wonder if he wants to play.
I hope so.
If he does, then I’m ready for him.
I accidentally stumbled across Oliver’s secret because I was lost. I’d been daydreaming and I stumbled into it quite by chance.
There’s no way I’m going to be lost daydreaming today.
Today my wits are on stand-by, and I’m as alert as a coked up cocker spaniel.
But there’s no sign of Oliver.
He’s been busy in his office since I arrived. I’d let myself in and seen his office door was closed. I’d tip toed as ninja-like as I could up to the door and I could hear the tapping of fingers on a keyboard.
‘Hi Carla,’ he’d called out from behind the door. I’d almost shit myself. It was like he knew I was there. I’d quickly taken a few paces back and held a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound a little.
‘Oh, hi Oli,’ I’d called back trying to sound both casual and further away from the door than I actually was.
‘Just crack on as per. I’ve got a lot to do, so I’ll catch you later.’
‘Will do, no problem.’
If I had to describe Oliver’s house and decor in just a few words, I’d call it ‘black & white minimalist.’ The whole place screams control freak lives here.
If I’m totally honest, even though I only clean his place once a fortnight, I often wonder why he employs me… It’s never messy!
It’s never what you’d call ‘dirty,’ even after two weeks.
I sometimes wonder if I just tidied a few things up, wiped the kitchen sink, shined the taps, did similar in the bathroom with the taps and fittings, poured some bleach in the loo and then called it a day, would Oli think I’d cleaned the whole house.
But that’s not my style.
I always approach every job as though it’s filthy, then at least it keeps on top of the dust fall.
Now, a couple of hours after our verbal exchange through the office door, I’ve rushed round and cleaned his place, and I’m ready to play.
My mind has been working overtime while I’ve been busy.
All I’ve been able to think about is being shackled up in Oli’s dungeon, him slapping my arse and touching me, making me wet and wanting, then leaving me hanging. It’s got me excited because I want to know what it’s like to get the reward, the treat after the torture. I want to experience it and see how different it feels – is it better or worse… more intense or less intense than regular sex?
I want to see if it’s something I could develop a taste for.
I need to know. I have to know!
The anticipation makes me feel a little lighted headed and more than a little rampant.
I am so ready to play!
Considering what I found in Oliver’s bedroom I think he might want to play too.
His bedroom is perhaps the only room that’s not black and white – it’s more like
mushroom and black. It has a triple sliding door wardrobe with one panel being a full length mirror and the other two a black gloss, lacquered finish. The walls are, as I said, mushroom coloured, so they’re almost white but with a warmer hue.
However, it’s the bed that’s the stand out feature in this room.
It’s a king-size, black framed, four poster, canopy bed.
It really is beautiful and I reckon it must have cost a pretty penny.
And… now I know what he’s into, I realise his choice of bed makes perfect sense for his type of kinky lifestyle.
Today while cleaning, I’d found several ‘clues’ on the bed – clues that he might want to
have some fun with me. There were several reels of black rope, some lube, and a leather spanking paddle. I’d tested the paddle on the palm of my hand, just to see what the impact was like – sharp, but not too intense.
I reckon I could take that. Here’s hoping…
So, as I say, I’ve finished cleaning and basically I’m now just killing time in the hope he puts in an appearance. I’m in the lounge, on my knees, damp wiping the skirting boards. I’d opted to wear a short, black lycra skirt again. I haven’t got the best legs in the world, but it does show off my plump, spankable bum cheeks nicely, especially when I’m on my knees.
‘Woah Carla, what a sight for tired eyes,’ says Oliver walking into the room.
‘Hey Oli, how are you doing?’
‘Yeah I’m good thanks. I’ve been working on a couple of Blue Chip Company websites – high profile stuff – big bucks,’ he says with a cheeky wink suggesting he’s going to earn a lot from doing it. ‘I wanted to get it done before I saw you, so I didn’t get distracted.’
I get the big guns out and give him my flirtiest doe eyed look. ‘Me,’ I say. ‘A distraction…’
‘Carla,’ he says. ‘If the pope walked in here like I did and saw you bent over in that skirt… the Vatican would soon be looking for a new pope.’
We both laugh.
‘So did you like the toys?’ He asks.
‘Toys?’ I say. I’m sure as hell not going to make it easy for him. Time to play him at his own game.
‘Yeah, the ones on the bed.’
‘Really…’ I say. ‘I didn’t see anything. What did you leave out?’
‘You know damn well,’ he says.
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Really,’ he says, grinning like the cat that’s got the cream. He digs his phone out of his jeans pocket. ‘Come and have a look at this.’
I get off my knees, which are now red, and walk over to his side.
‘Are you ready?’
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘But what for?’
He holds up a finger gesturing for me to wait.
‘Hey Google,’ he says to his phone. The screen lights up. ‘Show me the bedroom cam.’
I feel all the colour drain from my face.
‘Sure,’ says his Google Assistant. ‘Showing the feed from one device.’
The screen changes showing a live camera feed pointed directly at his bed.
‘Here,’ he says. ‘Hold this, wait here and keep watching.’ He hands me his phone and leaves the room.
I hear him climbing the stairs, then his footsteps on the landing and then he appears on his phone screen feed, by his bed. He looks into the camera and flashes a somewhat malicious grin. Then he picks up the paddle and spanks his hand a couple of times, copying me when I tested it out.
He looks back into the camera and beckons me with his finger to come to him.
I set off upstairs to his bedroom, my pace slow so I can think.
Shit shit shit!
I realise I’ve lost the upper hand and as I enter the room Oliver is waiting for me by the bed, still wielding the paddle, giving his hand an occasional slap.
‘Hold the phone up please Carla,’ he says.
I hold it, face up between us.
‘Hey Google, show me the hall cam.’
I’m looking him straight in the eyes.
So, the bugger did know I was behind the door! I’ll be damned if I’m gonna look at the screen.
‘Look at the screen,’ he says.
I see it flash into life out of the corner of my eyes. ‘No.’
‘Look, at the screen,’ he says, his voice steely.
‘So, that’s insolence and lying,’ he says, raising an eyebrow. ‘It seems you’re determined to be naughty today Carla.’
It looks like I’m going to get what I wanted, just not in the way I wanted.
‘So it seems,’ I say, still staring intently at him.
He takes the phone off me, walks behind me and places it on the bedroom table.
He rests his chin on my shoulder and whispers in my ear. ‘Naughty girls get punished. And I get the pleasure of punishing you.’
I nod, slowly, resigned to the fact my plan to have more control has gone up in smoke.
‘You seem to be breathing rather heavily,’ he says. ‘Are you preparing yourself?’
‘Good,’ he says. ‘You remember the safe words?’
‘Repeat them to me.’
‘Red means stop. Mercy means slow down,’ I say, remembering what he told me last time.
‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘At least you’ve got something right today.’
I take a deep breath.
‘Right,’ he says. ‘Take your top off, then get on your knees on the bed.’
I slip my top up over my head and toss it on the floor.
‘Oy! Pick that up and put it on the bed end,’ says Oli. ‘You’ve just cleaned up here!’
I do as I’m told, then reach round to undo my bra.
‘No,’ he says. ‘Leave that on. Now, get on the bed.’
I climb on and kneel as instructed.
‘Put your hands together out in front of you, like you’re praying.’
He unreels one of the lengths of rope and folds it in half so there’s a loop at one end. He wraps the looped end round my wrists a couple of times and deftly ties a knot. He’s obviously done this before because the knot is tight enough to stop me getting my hands out, but not so tight as to restrict my blood flow.
When he’s finished my wrists are firmly bound in six wraps of rope and he’s holding the tail ends, which are quite long.
‘Shuffle up the bed,’ he says pointing towards the top of the bed. He then ties the ends round one of the headboard posts. When he’s finished I give it a tug and it’s clear I’m not going anywhere, and there’s no way my hands are getting out of the knot.
I am completely at his mercy.
I say completely, but if I wanted to I could roll onto my back and kick him, but where would the fun be in that!
‘You can’t escape,’ he says. ‘Not without hurting yourself in the process. You’re only way out is to do as you’re told.’
Oli leans forward and reaches under the pillow pulling out what looks like a snooker ball with straps on. ‘And it’s become obvious today that you’re going to be a feisty one, so it’s a good job I stashed a couple of other things out of sight.’
What the fuck!
‘Open your mouth,’ he says. He obviously notices the look of alarm on my face. ‘This wont’ hurt you,’ he reassures me. ‘But it will be uncomfortable, and it means I won’t have to listen to your yammering.’
‘What about the safe words?’ I ask. ‘How can I use them if I can’t speak?’
‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘When this is in you’ll use sounds. Two long ahh sounds will mean mercy. Three short ahhs means stop. Got it?’
I nod uncertainly.
What the fuck am I letting myself in for!
‘Don’t worry, we’ll test you out once it’s in,’ he says. ‘Open wide.’
I open my mouth and he places the ball between my teeth, then he pulls the straps round the back of my head and, pushing my long hair over my shoulder he fastens the straps. I feel him slide a finger between the straps and my head, checking their tightness. They don’t feel too tight to me.
‘Say ahh,’ he says with a sly grin.
Ahh is all I fucking can say.
He runs through the safe sounds, making sure I understand and can do them with the gag in.
He leans forward again and this time pulls what looks like a black handkerchief from underneath the bed sheets. I frown at him as he unfurls it and shakes it to its full length.
‘You didn’t see this either when you were snooping did you!’ He says with a filthy grin. ‘And now you won’t see what else is coming either.’
The little shit…
He wraps the blindfold round my eyes and ties it off behind my head. It must be made of latex or something else stretchy because it hugs the contours of my face, completely obscuring my vision.
Oh bollocks! I’m not sure I’m ready for this.
He’s right. I didn’t see this coming, and I find it alarming that now I can’t speak and I can’t see anything, at all.
‘Now, shuffle backwards,’ he says. ‘So your hands are on the bed, doggy style.’
As I move myself into position, I feel his hands on my hips, guiding me to exactly where he wants me to be. Then suddenly he lifts and drags me backwards so I’m stretched flat out, face down on the bed. He grabs my skirt and panties and pulls them down my legs, removing them completely. Then he kneels between my legs, forcing them apart and lifts me at the hips.
‘Get on your knees,’ he says sternly. ‘Stick your arse out further.’
He drags and pulls me around for a few seconds, pulling my legs apart, pressing down on
the arch of my back, until he’s finished getting me into the position he wants. My arms are stretched out above my head in a position of supplication, my legs are open wide and my backside is stuck up in the air giving him easy access to my foo-foo.
Foo-foo, seems so wrong in this context. I’m gonna have to call it my pussy.
‘Okay, that’s better,’ he says. ‘Today is training day. Training is all about obedience and that begins with deciding what you’re going to call me.’
What the hell is he on about? I can’t even speak.
As though he’s read my mind he says, ‘I know you can’t speak properly, but you’ll make your best effort and I’ll work it out. So let’s begin. What’s my name?’
Today has definitely not turned out like I expected.
I’m tied to an amazing bed with my arse in the air. I’m blindfolded, gagged and totally naked, except for my bra.
It strikes me just how vulnerable I feel right now. But the thought that at any time Oli could take me any way he wants mixes with the vulnerability and I feel aroused in a way I’ve never felt before.
He could fuck me senseless and I’d be powerless to stop him.
Yes I know I’ve got safe sounds, but there’s still always the chance that he could ignore them.
This is utterly thrilling, and my pussy is aching to be filled.
I’ve lost control of so many things today, and I don’t think it’s over just yet.
Okay, he asked me his name. Here goes…
I lift my head above my outstretched arms and through the gag give it my best shot at saying Oliver.
I feel like a pissed ventriloquist.
‘Good,’ he says. ‘But that’s not what you’re going to call me in this space, and this is where the training comes in. I’m going to ask you what you’re going to call me and you’re going to tell me. If I don’t like it then you get a couple of spanks with the paddle.’
I hear him smack his hand with the paddle a couple of times, clearly for effect and to enforce his point.
‘Now, stay where you are.’ He climbs out from between my legs and stands at the side of the bed.
Shit. That means he’s not going to be fucking me anytime soon.
‘But first, you deserve some punishment for your lies and insolence today.’
I hear the sound of the paddle striking my buttocks at the same time as I feel the pain.
‘Ahhh!’ I scream.
It’s worse because being blindfolded I can’t see it coming.
But I’ll be damned if I’m going to scream out again.
‘Two for each misdemeanour I think,’ says Oli.
‘Good girl,’ he says.
I feel his hand caress my buttocks, stroking the area he slapped with the paddle.
‘And good girls get rewards.’
I feel his fingers slip between my cheeks towards my pussy.
‘Oh my god Carla,’ he says. ‘You really are a filthy bitch aren’t you! You’re soaking wet.’
It’s true, I am. I am incredibly aroused, and the feeling of his fingers teasing my labia and tracing around my inflamed love bud is only adding to it. He slides his fingers up and down between my wet folds a couple of times, then stops and pulls away. I hear him lick his fingers.
‘You taste great,’ he says. ‘Let’s see if we can make you wetter. What are you going to call me?’
‘What was that?’ he asks.
I try again. ‘Hee-sing-ahs-had.’
Fuck me, he got it…
I flinch and grunt.
Flinch, no grunt, just a deep exhalation.
‘Try again…’ he says.
I can’t see Oli stood at the side of the bed. I can’t see any sign that he’s excited. But he’s breathing is slow and deep – sigh-like. His breathing is telling me he wants to fuck me and it dawns on me that I can play him at his own game here… I can make him wait as long as possible before he gets to fuck me. All I have to do is take the pain and hold back the urge my aching pussy has to get a good seeing to.
I decide to play hardball.
‘Hunt,’ I say, realising that if I hold my tongue up by the side of the ball gag, I can almost pronounce a ‘t’ sound. The hard ‘c’ is impossible though.
‘Hunt?’ says Oli.
I flinch and grunt again. The blindfold makes it impossible to tell when the smack is coming.
Focus Carla. Focus.
Flinch, deep breath.
Then I hear it. As he raises his arm the paddle ‘whooshes’ just a little through the air before he strikes.
No flinch, grunt or deep breath.
I’ve got it.
‘I am not a cunt,’ says Oli, his voice hard. ‘That’s why you got a surprise spank.’
I’m sweating. My poor cheeks are inflamed and throbbing, but I know I can take more. I turn my head a little so I can hear him as he moves, improving my chances of predicting the spanks and mentally preparing myself.
My mum used to slap mine and my brother Jamie’s hand with a spatula when were naughty kids. Jamie used to cry, thinking it would make mum feel sorry for him – it probably worked better than my strategy, which was more defiant. I used to watch for the spatula coming down and prepare myself for it. I don’t know how I did it. All I know is it hurt less. Inadvertently my naughty behaviour as a kid has given me a tool to help here, now.
‘What are you going to call me?’ Asks Oli.
‘Ma-her,’ I say, leaving a little pause before adding. ‘vay-tor.’
‘Say it again,’ he says.
I hear the whoosh.
‘I might have been happy with Master,’ says Oli. ‘But now you’re just being obtuse.’
He slips his free hand between my thighs and rests his middle finger between my wet labia, his palm pressed against my clitoris.
I grunt and flinch, which presses my hot bud into his palm.
Oh, my, god. That felt amazing.
It was a fiery, dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure.
I really want him to fuck me now. The bastard.
‘What are you going to call me, Carla?’
He keeps his hand in place and at this moment I don’t care if he spanks me again. I don’t even care about listening for the ‘whoosh.’
Grunt, flinch, pain & pleasure overload.
‘I told you that was no good now.’
He presses his palm harder onto my soaking pussy.
This time the pain, pleasure overload is so immense that I feel like I might faint
I’ve never fainted in my life.
I’m caught in a heady mix of sensations I’ve never experienced before. I’m trapped and vulnerable to whatever Oli wants to do with me, and he clearly knows both what he wants, and how to make me want it.
Then something else dawns on me…
He’s doing the same thing to me that I did to Pete.
I’d spanked Pete while I held his cock in my hand. I’m not sure quite where I got the idea from, it must have been something I picked up when I was researching sub and dom roles and activities. Nevertheless I was clearly on the right lines. If my level of arousal is anything to go by then there’s no wonder Pete’s cock was so hard.
I try to focus my thoughts and think about what to do next. Part of me wants to give the mercy call, while another part of me wants to see how much of this I can take, whilst yet another part wants to get to the point where Oli’s happy with the name so I can find out what he does next.
‘Carla, are you still with me?’
‘Hyeh,’ I say. I really want to get rid of this damn ball gag, it’s starting to piss me off.
‘Okay, good. I thought I’d lost you there for a second,’ says Oli. ‘You went really still.’
‘Good. So, what are you going to call me?’
I wait for the woosh, and it doesn’t come.
‘My lord…’ Oli muses. ‘My, lord. My lord, I think I like that.’
Despite all my conflicting thoughts, I’m filled with relief that he’s happy with the name. I sigh deeply. His palm is still pressed into my wetness and he runs a finger deep between my labia, then removes it and I hear a sucking sound.
‘You really do taste amazing,’ he says.
I feel a hand grasp my butt cheek and using his thumb he probes my labia open. I feel something hard, press against my aching foo-foo.
Okay, I really don’t like the word pussy. So you’ll have to get used to foo-foo, for now.
His other hand grabs my other cheek. I let out a deep moan as I feel his hard cock push inside me until his hips press against my inflamed buttocks.
‘Oh man, that feels incredible,’ he says, grinding himself against me.
His cock pulses, my foo-foo thobs and it makes my thighs shudder.
He pulls back slowly until his tip is outside me but not out of contact, then he thrusts into me again and I moan.
‘Hlea ma-lo hwee you hake huh hag hoh?’
I really hope he understood that.
My jaw being forced open is really making me gag, and I guess that’s why they call it a gag. I’m salivating all over the damn thing and I really don’t like it.
I feel so thankful when, still pressed inside me, he reaches forward and undoes the straps at the back of my head. I cough the fucking thing out of my mouth and take several deep breaths.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
Immediately he pulls out of me, if he’d moved any faster there’d have been a popping sound as his cock exited my foo-foo.
I flinch and scream.
I flinch and scream again.
‘Thank you WHAT?’ He demands.
‘Thank you My Lord,’ I say realising my mistake. ‘Thank you My Lord,’ I repeat, in case he didn’t hear the first one.
‘That’s better,’ he says. ‘That is how you’ll address me from now on when we play. From now on you address me as My Lord. Understand?’
‘Yes, My Lord,’ I say.
‘Good girl,’ and with that he takes me from behind again.
I’m still blindfolded, and not being able to see heightens the sensation of him fucking me senseless. He beasts me like a wild animal, groaning and grunting, and all I can do is let him. The way I’m stretched out gives me no space to push back, so I’m completely at his mercy. The build up to this point has made me so sensitive that it’s not long before I feel a huge orgasm building. I soon climax and convulse, my vagina walls grasping his hard shaft. This drives Oli wild and he explodes in me, pounding hard, caught in the throes of his climax.
He collapses by my side and slips the blindfold off before untying my hands, releasing them from the headboard. My wrists have lovely patterned markings on from the rope and I wonder how long they’ll last.
I think my sore buttocks will last longer.
We lay there for a few minutes, both of us catching our breath and recovering. I feel exhausted, which is strange considering I’ve hardly moved. The overload of sensations has taken a lot more out of me than I could have imagined.
‘How was that for you?’ Oli asks.
‘I think I’d have liked it better without the gag, My Lord,’ I say.
Oli laughs. ‘Carla. The My Lord thing is something you only need to call me when we’re playing.’
‘Maybe I kind of like it, My Lord,’ I say with a cheeky grin, making no attempt to hide the sarcastic tone in my voice, then more seriously. ‘But I really didn’t like the gag.’
Oli laughs again. ‘Okay, no gag, but I can see further training is required. You’re a feisty little fucker aren’t you!’
‘Me. No. Never. But what do mean further training?’
‘I think you need to learn to control your orgasm next,’ he says. ‘And I can train you to do that.’
Control my orgasm! Oh no. That’s my department.
I might have lost control of the situation today, but no way is he ever having control of my orgasm.