Susan Donovan goes out to The Bunker for a day of self-bondage pleasure. But things don't work out exactly as planned. She is discovered by Master Bruce and Mistress June and their slave, slut. What happens next could change her life forever.
This story is in two parts. The second part doesn't make sense unless you read the first part.
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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright © 2020 by The Technician.
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The Bunker has always been my own little private place of perversion. It is technically located on an island in a federal park- actually a gulf shore island preserve- but I live nearby and always buy a season pass so I can come out to the beach as often as I want.
Up on the north end of the island, near the entrance to the park, there is this great public beach, which is where most people go. It's pretty crowded there most days, but if you wander about four miles down to where the bunker is, the beach is pretty deserted.
The area around the bunker is even more deserted. That's because the bunker is set a little ways back from the beach behind the dunes. You can't even see it from the beach... or from the mainland across the inland waterway. And you can't get directly to it from the beach, so no one is likely to just wander past. To get to the bunker, you have to go all the way down to where the island was cut in two by a hurricane a dozen or so years ago, then you come back up behind the dunes. It's a long, long walk, and motorized vehicles are not allowed on the beach.
Cars or even most Jeeps would get stuck anyway, and in a lot of places there isn't that much beach between the dunes and ocean. If you drove down during low tide, you would be stuck there once the tide started coming in.
You could just walk over the dunes, but there is a HUGE fine- even jail time- if they catch you doing that. And forget about sneaking back there over the dunes. You would leave really big footprints in the sand on the dunes and the beach patrol comes by real regularly on their big-tired three-wheelers. If they see footprints over the dunes, one of them will wait there and the other one will ride down and come back up to arrest you.
That means that the only way to get to the bunker behind the dunes is an additional three miles down the beach and three miles back up. Like I said, way too much of a walk. But my bicycle with its old-fashioned, big, fat tires can easily ride over the soft sand, and six miles, plus the four miles back up to the entrance to the beach, is not bad for a bicycle. It's six miles from my house to the park, so the total trip out to the bunker is sixteen miles... or about two hours. Again, not bad if you are used to bicycling.
There are quite a few people who walk or bicycle down to the cut and then come up behind the dunes. But they are mainly looking for a place to sunbathe in the nude, so they only come up a half-mile or so. As long as they are back there out of the way, the beach patrols will leave them alone. Sometimes I will see a particularly shy young miss sunning herself a mile or even two miles back up, but I have never seen anyone near MY bunker. The beach patrols don't even come up there unless they are looking for someone.
To help insure my privacy, I usually come out during the week when there are fewer tourists and locals going out to the beach. I work from home, so I can do that, but I was overwhelmed with work this past week and hadn't been able to get out here at all and... and I was horny as hell. So here I was on a Saturday morning, looking forward to a day of play.
The bunker is left over from World War II. Evidently there were a couple of big guns in some really thick concrete bunkers hidden behind the dunes and some smaller guns in a lighter bunker built up on stilts so they could fire straight out over the dunes. I've seen bunkers like these in old war movies and the big guns go "Boom! Boom! Boom!" and lob shells way out into the ocean while the smaller guns in the built-up bunkers go "Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat," and fire tracers and stuff right out over the water. Unfortunately, the storm surge from the same hurricane that cut the island in two pushed the built up, lighter concrete bunker right off its stilts and left it lying on its back behind them.
The bunkers are technically sealed off, but all they did was put big chains and padlocks on the metal doors. They didn't close off the big ports the guns used to fire through, and they didn't bother to close up the broken bunker at all after it got pushed off its stilts. They put up signs and tape for a while, but then some government engineers decided it wasn't going to collapse. They also decided that it would be way too expensive to demolish. So they just left it all for the crabs, the birds, the tourists, and me.