I could talk about what he said to me and what I said to him. The small talk we made about soft and hard limits and the merits and drawbacks of safe words. But none of that mattered until he asked me to follow him into the dungeon. The dungeon was really the basement of the Kink club, equipped with fetish furnishings, various toys, and cleaning supplies. Aside from those things, it was non-descript with simple loungers and tables; the comforts that could be found in any basement in our city. But again, none of that mattered at the time, just whether I'd follow him, and I did.
There was little talking after that. In a dark corner of the basement, his hand, a large albino spider, wrapped around my throat and squeezed. Bursts of light shot across my line of vision. Every nerve heightened with the vying sensation of survival versus pleasure. My body warred with my good sense. But I didn't fight. I allowed him full domain over me until the primal took over and my legs wrapped around his waist in challenge. He released the pressure on my neck as my sex rubbed against him, wet and inviting. I moaned into the sensations and he cocked an eyebrow as if to say, you dare. Oh, I dare. I flexed my thighs tighter, gripping him like a vice, provoking him to take it. Would he?
His answer came when his free hand undid the hooks on the back of my jumper, exposing my back. He slid the jumper off my shoulders in a gentle fashion, but that is where his gentleness ended. He cupped my breasts in his rough hand, still caressing me by the throat with the other. The sardonic smile he wore became a temporary tattoo that he pressed against the swell of my breasts, while he tweaked my nipples to the point of pain. I squirmed beneath him, loving every sensation, craving our clash of wills.
Once he disrobed me of my jumper, he released my throat and took in the sight of my partially nude body. My lacy black bra and underwear were in disarray, he relieved me of them too. When he moved to settle his head between my legs, I stopped him. We wouldn't go there tonight. No foreplay, no prolonging the inevitable. He owed me something; an angry, loud, no holds barred fuck.
But again, I was denied. He released me letting my bottle slide to the floor. There would be no words, no more teasing and no fucking...at least not that night, and I remained there in the stillness of the room, wanting and unfilled, listening as his footsteps ascended the basement steps.
