I’ll try to tell you everything that happened in that dungeon, but things moved so fast, it was almost a blur. They moved fast, and yet we were there for nearly three hours. I did lose myself a little bit. More than I’d expected to.
To begin with, Matthew ordered me to strip, and Byron and Frank immediately moc
ked my worthless body, my skinny legs and non-existent boobs. They tied my arms over my head and took turns beating and marking my ass while I watched Matthew fuck Slave in the mouth. After that, they asked Matthew if they could both fuck me at once. He agreed that they could, that I would love that, and the truth was that I actually did. They put clips on my nipples first that hurt like hellfire, then Frank lay down on a bench and pulled me onto his cock. Byron straddled the bench behind me and thrust into my ass and they both fucked me slowly in a very smooth and practiced way. And yes, it felt great, I got turned on from it, turned on enough to really come hard. Matthew just sat in a chair across the room and watched with an unfathomable look on his face. Byron and Frank said nothing about the fact that I’d come, and then Slave and I were made to kneel and were both beaten at the same time.
As I cowered beside Slave with my arms cuffed behind my back, I thought that the way she took beatings was amazing. She writhed and moaned like she loved every blow. It was like the pain didn’t touch her, or if it did, it was something she craved. While she moaned in my ear, I screamed and begged pitifully. When they were done striping both our bottoms, they made Slave lie down and told me to eat her out. I did, even though I’d never gone down on a woman. I tried some of the things Matthew often did on me. She moaned and twisted under me and seemed to find pleasure, but since she seemed to find pleasure in everything, I couldn’t really tell if it was true. Then she was ordered to go down on me, which she did while Matthew fucked her in the ass, watching my face the whole time. I let myself drift, as Slave’s cunnelingus talents put my own to sorry shame. She had me climaxing haplessly in minutes, and I stared into Matthew’s eyes as I came. Up to this point, I actually found great pleasure in that dungeon, but then, after that, things took a nasty turn.
Byron commented to Matthew that I was undisciplined, childish, and self-absorbed, that I came too frequently and with too much pleasure of my own. Matthew laughed and said that was true, and Byron asked if he could gag me and punish me as he saw fit. What he actually said was, Can I take her into my hands? I hated that idea, because his hands would not be Matthew’s, but Matthew said that he could if he wanted to, and things got totally crazy after that.
Byron began by gagging me with great pleasure. I had never worn a gag, and I’m sure that turned him on, to be the first one to gag my mouth. The one he produced was invasive. He thrust the wide phallic shape into my mouth and buckled it against my face with the straps, so I was unable to breathe deeply or swallow with any success. Matthew asked to check it, and I thought there was no way he would make me endure it, but he nodded, to my dismay, and said I was okay. Then I was blindfolded and bound to a leather-covered, X-shaped cross, bound at every point, wrists, ankles, neck, and waist. Byron, Frank, and Matthew all fucked me in the ass at that point, and I could tell from the feel of it that Matthew went last. I also didn’t enjoy it at all. I was far too traumatized by the helplessness I felt.
Next, Byron lectured me a long time about how worthless I was, about how much Matthew loved Slave. He said that their slave was lower than shit but that I was even more worthless than she, because at least she was beautiful and womanly while I was unattractive and poorly trained.
I could hear Slave’s moans in the background, that someone was fucking her. The idea that it was Matthew brought tears to my eyes. Was this truly what Matthew wanted? The fertile beauty and utter submission of Slave? Instead he had me, coltish and pale, and more likely to cry and scream than moan with pleasure under his blows.
Byron started to beat me painfully then with a cane, and that in itself hurt like hell, but aside from that, he hit my thighs and my back. I screamed behind the gag and writhed in a panic, because those marks would show. Matthew asked sharply for him to restrict his blows to my ass, and Byron began to argue with him about the place of a slave. Matthew insisted I could not be marked as Byron wanted, and then Byron asked to beat the bottom of my soles instead. I shook my head violently, made a desperate sound of alarm, as much as I could behind the gag in my mouth, but Matthew was already voicing his denial. Lucy is a dancer, he said.
And those four words, I can’t say what they meant to me, while I was gagged and trussed and fucked and beaten there on that cross. Yes, my name was still Lucy to him, not slave or whore, and I was a dancer, not just a piece of flesh. But the worst part of it was, what made me start weeping, was the edge of frustration in Matthew’s voice that said he was being embarrassed, that he was being shown up. That Byron and Frank were rubbing it in his face.
Your girl is a piece of shit, was basically what they were saying. I hated that I’d brought that embarrassment to him. For Matthew to be belittled on my behalf was just so horribly unfair, and then for him to still stand up for me so staunchly made me want to sob.
Things turned ugly then. Byron cycled through toy after toy. Beatings and dildos and nipple clamps and beatings and hair pulling and more beating to a constant symphony of verbal abuse.
Matthew and his friends had become locked in some testosterone driven game of slave chicken, and I desperately, desperately wanted to scream mercy. But I wasn’t able to scream anything at all. In fact, I was barely able to keep from choking on my spit behind that godforsaken gag. I thought pretty soon I’d be foaming at the mouth. If this was S & M, real S & M, I didn’t want it.
I only wanted what Matthew gave me, that edge of pain that was a pleasure to endure. Byron and Frank wanted to break me, smash me to pieces and then brutally smash me some more. I think Byron was trying to see how far Matthew would let him go, to see if he could actually force Matthew to stop him. And he did, when Byron said he wanted to piss in my mouth. I shook my head, frantic and disgusted, as Byron mocked me. “Do you think you have a choice?” But Matthew muttered, “I don’t think so. Bodily fluids. You know. It’s getting late, we should probably go.”
He came over to the cross and stood behind me, stood between me and Byron who had to pee. It felt so protective, his body behind me. I cried desperate tears that I couldn’t reach back for him. Even when I had failed so miserably to live up to this S & M dream, even when he was angry and embarrassed, he still came behind me and put his hand on my neck. He touched me as if to say, okay, now it’s over, and I wept in sorrow and shame. He unmasked me, undid my restraints, and then carefully removed the awful gag stuffed down my throat. My lips and chin were covered in drool and I swiped it away as best as I could, feeling ugly and humiliated. I couldn’t have met his eyes then for anything, and fortunately he would not meet my eyes either.
He brought me my dress and threw it at me. “Get ready. We’re leaving.” I quickly obeyed. I knew he was disappointed in everything, me, his friends, the whole sordid scene. He didn’t even ask me to thank Byron and Frank, just said goodbye to them and dragged me out the door. As he pulled me to the car, I was awash in self-loathing, and Matthew was more furious than I’d ever seen him before.
“I’m sorry, Matthew,” I whispered.
“Shut up,” he barked so sharply that I flinched. He opened the door and shoved me in the back seat, then slammed the door and went to the driver’s side. He stood outside a minute, like he was trying to compose himself, then climbed in and peeled away from the house.
“I’m sorry—” I said again.
“Just shut the fuck up, Lucy. I mean it.”
“I tried, I just couldn’t—”
“Just shut up!” he yelled. “I asked you to fucking shut up!” So I did. I sat and cried in the backseat as quietly as I could, and when we finally got to his house, let him haul me inside and rip off my dress.
He yelled for Mrs. Kemp as he pushed me to my knees.
“Suck me,” he growled, tearing open his pants, pulling out his cock and stuffing it into my mouth. While I started sucking him off, Mrs. Kemp scurried in from the kitchen in alarm.
“Take this fucking dress and fucking burn it,” he said, tossing it at her feet.
“Yes, Mr. Norris,” she replied, not missing a beat. I d
id not miss a beat either. While she collected the dress from the floor, I sucked away at his cock, while he pulled my hair so hard that it hurt.
“Just suck it, you bitch. Don’t be lazy.”
I sucked it like I could just suck everything away, and when I finished he looked down at me furiously while I swallowed his cum. He hauled me up and pulled me towards the basement, and I fought him then. I fought him hard, but he carried me kicking and flailing down the stairs and flung me into the room, right onto the floor. For a long time he stood and looked down at me as I sobbed brokenly. His anger, his furious disapproval was something I just couldn’t bear.
“Please, what can I do?”
“I asked you to shut up. That’s what I want you to do.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“I don’t want another fucking word from you.” He crossed to the armoire and got the cane, and stood over me for a minute, and then he said, “Don’t bother to count.” As he started to beat me, I heard him talking low, almost to himself.
“You know why they call it falling, Lucy? Why they call it falling in love? Because it’s completely out of your control. And I hate being out of control.” I was unable to untangle his words right then, exhausted and overwhelmed as I was. He just kept on hitting me with that cane while I writhed and drew my legs up on the floor. I felt it, but I didn’t feel it. It hurt so badly, but at the same time I felt so empty by that point that my entire body was a void. It was almost four in the morning, and I was completely sure that Matthew’s mind had snapped. He beat me until my own mind faltered and grew foggy, and then a word in my mind suddenly became clear.
“Mercy,” I moaned into the carpet.
He hit me again. Fire and pain. Stop him. “What?”
“Mercy!” I screamed at him. “Mercy! Mercy! Stop!”