~ erotica ~
So many people. So many things happening. Equipment like I'd never seen before. Outfits, costumes, shoes, and boots that looked so glamorous yet so terrifying. Naked people flitting about. Fucking any and everywhere in whatever manner you could imagine.
And the things they used. The screams and wails coming from people's lips. I hadn't understood what I was getting myself into when I signed up for this event.
Was this really who I was? Was this really what I wanted?
I sat in my corner, a quiet little church mouse in the dungeon. I sat and watched, invisible to the fray. No one took notice of me. There were so many other spectacles to behold. I was safe there in my corner.
And then he came for me.
I noticed his approach from across the crowded room. His eyes were dark, a mixture of comforting and menacing. I felt like he could see through me, through my clothes into my flesh, through my head into my mind, from a hundred feet away.
With his each step closer towards me, my heart rate increased. I wanted to look away, wanted him to not see me, wanted to be invisible again. But he kept the contact, and kept moving towards me, til he finally stopped, standing legs astride and head tilted down to my upturned eyes.
With his body between myself and the dungeon, I felt shielded, closed off from the tumult that I feared. He reached down a hand, and I took it, standing up, my body now even closer to his.
He smelled of leather and musk. It was intoxicating, and I actually closed my eyes as I took in his scent.
The touch of his hand to my face shot my lids back open.
"Beautiful," he said, before caressing my lips with his own.
Again I closed my eyes, letting myself fall into him, kissing him, parting my lips and allowing our tongues to dance. I raised my hands to caress his face, his cheeks, his chin.
With a jolt, he gripped my biceps and pulled my lips from his.
"What do you want," he ask, fire in his eyes.
I was flabbergasted. I didn't know why I was even here, why I'd made the leap, bought the ticket, and walked into the dungeon that evening. I didn't know why he had found me, why we were kissing. How could I possibly know the answer to his question?
"What do you want?" He yelled now, demanding words leave my lips. Yet still, I didn't know what to say.
"What. Do you. Want?" He brought my face as close as he could to his, our noses almost touching, my eyes almost going cross. And then the words came.
"You. Yours. I want to be yours." I didn't know why I said it, but I knew it to be true.
That was why I was here. I didn't want to scream or cry or be hit. But what I did want, what I truly desired, they would all understand and accept. I wanted to be owned, to be someone's property.
A sexy yet scary smile crept across his face.
"Kneel."
I did as I was told, again finding my spot on the floor. He parted his leather kilt, and I saw his cock was quite hard. Looking up at him, he was looking down on me. And the fire that was in his eyes found a home my cunt now as I burned to service him in whatever way he wished.
My hands parted his leather and my mouth found his cock.
I at first played with the tip and licked up and down the shaft before taking all of him into my mouth. One of his hands found the back of my head and gripped my hair. As my lips rode up and down his cock, his push on the back of my head encouraged my movements.
My right hand found his balls and began to massage, but then his free hand gripped my wrist and brought my arm to behind my back. He then grabbed my left wrist and placed my left arm with my right. My hands gripped my wrists. My mouth was to do all the work.
Soon he merely held my head as he thrust into my mouth, his strokes growing faster. Faster. Harder. Deeper. Until he pulled himself from my mouth and came, spewing his cum into my hair. He mashed his essence into my locks, cleaning his hands with my strands.
For the first time that night, he knelt down and whispered into my ear.
"Now you will smell like my sex for the rest of the night."
He stood, looking down on me again. He gave me this smile, this knowing grin, before walking away back across the dungeon and disappearing into the crowd.
I hoped beyond hope that somehow during this weekend, among the classes and events and play, I would find him again.
And I did, the next night, in the dungeon.
The Rude Pundit's Annual Nativity-palooza, Now with Bonus Cultural
Insensitivity
-
Like movies about suicidal snowmen and tortured ghosts and pole-frozen
tongues, some things are a tradition around the rude house. Beloved reruns
are good ...
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