BDSM Dungeon Visit, part 1

Holding his hand while wearing my new black leather thigh high boots, Jon carefully guided me out of the cab and across the dimly lit cobblestone street.  He knew that on this first visit to a public BDSM dungeon my balance could be compromised as my mind zoomed with all kinds of images and possibilities. Along with the boots, Jon had selected a black mini and lace bustier for me to wear. He explained that my outward visual appearance and easy underneath access were what he wanted on this particular night. With a recently shaved mound and double pearl G-string panties, it was no wonder I had a hard time navigating my surroundings!

Once across the street without incident, he escorted me down the stone steps to the basement of a seemingly empty factory in the warehouse district of NYC, circa 1993. Leaving the only light behind us, my hand grip got stronger and my breath shorter. No surprise that at midnight, on a warm summer night, our dungeon would be located in what appeared to be the darkest and most perilous looking building in the neighborhood.

Jon promised to care for my every need and more that evening. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I trusted him. And reminded me of that fact as he knocked on the heavy door requesting entry to the brute looking guard on the other side. Letting my hand go to negotiate our entry into this BDSM club, I noticed my hands were slippery from a mixture of sweat and lotion applied during my manicure a few hours earlier. Jon had selected black nail polish to go with the Stygian theme for the evening.

Acclimating my eyes to my dark surroundings I was able to notice that the gate keeper was as wide as he was tall. Covered with leather, dripping with chains and a donning a spiked BDSM collar, he kept eyeing me and my long leather legs. I wasn’t sure if he was paying me a compliment or just wanted to possess my boots. So I grabbed Jon’s hand as soon as our business was complete and the door was opened.

BDSM Dungeon

Having never played in a public hardcore dungeon, my curiosity had the best of me. Our doorman had mentioned that there were staff members in place on every floor. Their job was to make sure all play was safe and consensual. At first, I heard a fair amount of what sounded like friendly banter. Then, sporadically sprinkled in, I heard a few moans and one shriek. Startled, Jon told me not to worry. He sat me on a stool at the bar and requested two glasses of their best Merlot from the bartender.

Rotating while sitting on my rocky seat, I squinted my eyes with all the concentration I could muster. I wanted to know where the sounds were coming from as well as what was transpiring in every corner of the room. There was a naked, rope bound woman hanging from the ceiling, another being stuck with needles and a partially dressed man being stretched on what looked to be a mid-evil torture table. Jon watched my reactions and knew that only one of those images warmed my already speedy libido…

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My submissive role and our BDSM play at his house had been evolving since we began dating 6 months earlier. The large ceiling hook eyes over his bed was a favorite of mine. Each time he would bind me up in a most precarious position, he would bring out some new implements to try out on me. Several were purchased from our favorite kinky store, but many were ordinary household items turned kinky. Spoons, turkey baster, clips and penetration toys lead the parade. Every time he introduced a new toy, my body would quiver with excitement and then succumb as he experimented on both my public and very private body parts. He was an artist and my body was his blank canvas. Jon referred to me as his living sex toy. His maneuvers made my mental sexual fantasies grow in directions I didn’t even know existed. So much so, that I usually begged for more.

Controlling my every move during our play, Jon would literally set what he titled his “orgasmic timer.” Always working to keep me on the brink of an explosion. But, I wasn’t allowed to explode until it rang. At that moment I had permission to let my body erupt into waves of blinding multiple convulsions escaping from every pore. The satisfaction experienced during what seemed like hours of exciting play won Jon permission to do anything he wanted to with my body.

Enthralled with the scenes being played out in this dark, musky place had my mind fall prey to the pulsing growing between my legs. Jon and I had spoken about taking our rich private play into a public arena. The idea of having an audience watch as he conjured up a new saucy, sexy scenario using my body soaked my panties.

I took a few sips of the smooth Merlot my divine “Dom” had ordered. It warmed my body further, making it even more receptive to the scenes taking place around us. Swerving on my stool like an eager animal waiting to be unleashed, I noticed a very attractive couple in the corner standing by a wooden shellacked stockade. He was tall and commanding and was speaking very quietly while looking into her eyes. She stood still appearing very feminine and coy. I could relate as I watched her looking up at him with her hands behind her, covering her ass. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was in a lot of trouble.

BDSM Slave

Like a fly on the wall, I watched the scene unfold in front of me as my pussy began to pucker. I knew that feeling when Jon would scold me before pulling my pants down and paddling my bottom. Hanging there for their next move, I wiggled uncomfortably in my seat. Mesmerized, I found myself right in the middle of this couple’s very sexy BDSM scene.

She was also tall, wearing a feminine dress that flowed as she rocked back and forth looking into her master’s eyes. Probably like everyone else watching, I wondered what she was wearing underneath. With a serious face, he took her hands and placed them into the stockade. Her neck followed as he shut it. Watching the profile of the scene develop, I could see her bottom half was fully available. Then he walked around her locked body, drinking in every one of those curves and began to slowly dry hump her. The entire room rocked with them.

As he began lifting her dress, her stockings, garter, and panties were revealed. She had a beautiful body with curves in all the best places. He seemed pretty focused on giving her the punishment he had been reprimanding her for earlier. Without much delay, her panties were lowered and her bottom and everything in between was exposed. His hands caressed her bareness for a few minutes and then he turned and addressed the room:

“Tina knows that before her evening of enjoyment begins you will all get to witness the bare bottom spanking that she so deserves.”

Even my pussy shrunk from hearing the sternness of his words. Wrapping one arm around her waist to hold her still, he began to paddle her rear end. From the very first swat, I could see Tina’s sensual, smooth movement change to a jumpy stinging jolt that was accompanied by a muffled shout. He wasted no time making her bottom warm and more sore with every landing. There was no place she could go. She just had to take it no matter the pain it caused. Her dominant made sure he hit both cheeks and inner thighs equally. Even through the dim light, I was able to see the pinkness grow to red.

After several minutes of paddling Tina’s ass, her master stopped. He then announced that before releasing her from the stockade, anyone who wanted a closer look was invited to step up. By this time there were a good dozen people standing or sitting holding their breath with every swat. Along with the rest of them, Jon got up to get a better view. Sitting in a puddle, I sat still on my stool. I realized that my turn could be next…